The Guardian of the PitA Poem by David Lewis PagetHe’d
worked at the pit since he was ten, Was
quite at home in the dark, Worked
by the light of a miner’s lamp Avoided
the slightest spark, He
chipped away at the face of coal, He
chewed tobacco, and spat, His
face was black as he wandered home With
pride in his miner’s hat. But
the mine had closed as it petered out And
the miners went on the dole, While
Jack Coltrane had fretted at home For
his work was his very soul, The
entrance tunnels were sealed up tight And
the Colliery wheel was stopped, It
sat like an aging dinosaur Set
high on its wooden props. The
miners drifted away for work The
walls of the houses cracked, The
doors and windows were boarded up The
only one left was Jack, He
wandered lonely about the streets Of
the place he had always known, The
empty terraces, vacant shops In
the town that he’d called his home. I’d
gone to squat in an empty house I
was down on my luck back then, And
Jack had knocked on my nailed up door, I
told him my name was Ben, He’d
pop around for a morning tea And
he’d tell me tales of the mine, His
eyes would gleam with excitement when He
talked of the dust and grime. ‘I’ll
take you there, and show you the pit.’ He
knew I’d never been down, ‘What
else is to do in a place like this,’ He
said, and I must have frowned. ‘There’s
nothing to worry about, old son, Just
wrap up well for the cold, It
used to be hot in the workings then, But
we’ll be looking for gold.’ He
said he knew where the traces were, He’d
seen it a thousand times, ‘The
owners only wanted the coal So
we left the rest behind, There’s
not a lot, but enough for us, We’ll
chip out a tidy sum.’ That’s
all I needed to know, I went And
put some old denims on. The
mine was scary for one like me Who’d
never been down a pit, So
dark and damp, and the air was still, I
hated the smell of it, We
need to go down 300 feet He
said, not batting an eye, I
trudged along in his wake, and thinking: ‘Why
did I come - Oh why?’ We
saw the first few traces of gold At
the thirty fathom mark, But
Jack said, ‘Still there’s a way to go,’ And
he trudged along in the dark, We
walked around the falls from the roof Where
the props had given way, It
was far too late to be turning back Though
I felt a mute dismay. Suddenly
there was a gleam ahead Lit
up by our feeble lamps, And
Jack had hurried ahead to check What
gleamed in the rising damp, Behind
a fall I could see a sight That
will haunt me ‘til I’m old, A
skeleton lay in the passageway, A
skeleton covered in gold. ‘He
must have been here a hundred years,’ Said
Jack, ‘and there is the proof, The
fall has only revealed him now The
gold has leached from the roof, It’s
covered this poor old-timer’s bones He’s
worth more now that he’s dead,’ But
then the end of the tunnel glowed And
a voice boomed in my head. ‘Who
desecrates my dominions, Who
approaches me in their pride? You
come to my underground kingdom Where
another before you died!’ The
voice came up through a hole in the ground That
glowed like a fire was lit, ‘Retreat,
or I’ll tear you asunder, I’m
the Guardian of the Pit!’ I
don’t know how we got out that day We
stumbled and ran to hide, We
thought the demon was at our heels As
we caught at our breath, and cried, We
fell out into the open air And
breathed again at the last, I
said, ‘I’ll never go down again!’ Jack
said, ‘It must have been gas!’ ‘It
must have been just a pocket of gas That
we breathed, that knocked us out, It
was just a hallucination That’s
for sure,’ said Jack, ‘No doubt!’ But
he never went down the mine again, He said he was 'over it', But truth to tell, he was scared as hell Of
the Guardian of the Pit! David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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