who grace raise cry. And she watched the miner picket The grey mist swirling round And a figure stepped forward, Seeped the miners' blood, Into the mud His arms down by his side.
Another blow from a stooping man, On a horse he was astride. help And forward a figure ran To help the injured miner, And blinded by her tears A mother to her son.
The grey mist swirling round too To help the miner on the ground And she cradled the miner to her, The wound on the head was wide. Seeped the miner's blood, Into the mud The grey mist swirling round.
And the woman knelt beside him The miner to whom she had run, by For the man who had been beaten Was the anguished woman's son.
our Will bring her miner to the mud.
And this happens at every coalfield, In the darkness of the night, Some miner is beaten senseless Because he is standing up for his rights. The miner was defenceless — no weapon in his hand A scream rang out in the darkness.
The mother came forward in anguish And every wife and mother of a miner Knows the dread of a truncheon's thud, In the hands of the 'legalised bully boys'