LIVING IN DARKNESS
Years ago when men cared nought for beast or man,
Just make money, become rich their only plan,
Half starved, cold children of about five or six
Sent into the mines with shovels and picks.
Ten hours or more in darkness no time for games,
Digging for coal, deep, in weak light of candle flames,
Old and worn out before childhood was over,
Buried under rather than playing in the clover.
Imagine a childhood full of darkness, pain and fear,
Then home to coldness, hunger and very little cheer,
Lying on straw maybe too tired to relax and rest,
An old crust of bread and milk at the very best.
Little by little those days have now passed away,
And all children can now be happy and learn to play,
Yet some of those children survived the misery,
For it is through those folks that come my family tree,
How many more ancestors would now be mine
If they had not died, I think by a cruel crime.
I hope I will meet all those who too young died,
Young ones gone, how families must have cried.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson February 1, 2003