Sods law

My daddy was a miner..
not that I knew much
about the job,
I knew we were, fed,
clothed and warm..
with coal fire loved.

He'd come home from
"The Club' he'd got
forty yoghurts
and a brace of pheasants..
a rabbit for the pot.

He'd fly his pigeons
from Leicester..
, it made him
feel less restricted..
than in his vest..
and pit pants..
that my mother washed.
religiously..
in the twin tub..

When the lights would
flicker..my lord...
My mum would say..
That's your dad..
coming up the pit..
and we'd be glad..
Because we were afraid
of the darkness he had..
endured..

But my lovely mum,
must have been strong...
Like all miners wives..
to hold her breath..
whilst her love..
was beneath the 
sod..
Bless them all
.