Deaf -
Gwyn Morgan |
Down In The Valley -
Billy King |
Are you deaf? he asks
turning down the volume
so the music dies and I
hear the ringing in my ears.
Day and night it's there.
The same sound
Quasimodo heard, non stop
when the bells stopped pealing.
How many more times
Do I have to say sorry,
I beg your pardon, or
say that they can please.
Does my deafness
make them talk quieter,
is it a medical condition
that's good for a laugh?
Why do they smile
I can't see the joke.
not even when they say
I'll give you a ring. |
In Wales there is a valley,
At the bottom of a hill,
Where you would be forgiven,
For thinking time stood still
Once used shafts of coal mines,
Old smells of molten steel
The hidden caves of chartists,
A history that's surreal
It helped us all to get a vote,
Produced the steel for rail
We all should be indebted,
To GlynEbwy, Ebbw Vale.
Thatcher closed the coal mines,
In 1989
July the 5th 2002,
Became the Foundries time
They thought that Ebbw Vale would die,
That it would not survive
But true determination,
Has helped keep the town alive
Unity and freedom,
“UNDEB A RHYDDID”
A motto born of pride and faith,
Helped locals in their bid
To build a better future,
They knew just what to do
And with the garden festival,
In 1992
A new light shone down on the town,
And helped them all to cope
New jobs, New shops, New houses built,
And with that came new hope
A town that once was put to sleep,
Awoken with a start
A Lily in a valley,
Full of flowers in my heart |
Wimberry Picking -
Gwyn Morgan |
Begging -
Gwyn Morgan |
The news whispered around the village,
over garden gates, in shopping queues.
"they are ready for picking."
Dad was working all week
Sunday was chapel.
You can't pick wimberries on sunday.
But Saturday was fine picking day.
With food prepared, we were tinned and jarred.
I was hungary at the top of the street.
Refused a sandwich, I sulked an ahead.
After climbing to the mountain top
We wrapped our food in our coats.
Mam opened the tin and took out our jars.
One with a bag of sweets
"Give some to you brother", My sister was told,
"Remember, no eating, no stalks, no leaves,"
Dad showed us where to pick
As we bent over bushes, birds skydived above.
Mam viewed the vally floor.
She gaurded the food, tipped jam jars in the tin.
The stalked the leaves we had missed.
Betrayed by blue lips, we all hung our heads.
"You won't want any food" she said,
We proved her wrong when the picnic had gone.
Then slowly we made our way home.
Dad carried the bag as we dog legged down.
My sister had to help make the tart.
I had to wash and get out of the way
The annual event was done.
|
Once, she would pass this corner
with a purse full of cash to spend
now she sits on the pavement,
cardboard her only friend
Spare some coins for a cup of tea,
she begs the passers by
holding out her plastic cup,
never looking them in the eye.
No one stops to talk to her,
friends of old walk on.
They do not recognise her,
the face they knew has gone.
Now uncombed and toothless,
cold shouldered, on the floor.
sitting until it's time to find
a bedroom outside a door. |
Down In The Valley -
Billy King |
In Care -
Gwyn Morgan |
In Wales there is a valley,
At the bottom of a hill,
Where you would be forgiven,
For thinking time stood still
Once used shafts of coal mines,
Old smells of molten steel
The hidden caves of chartists,
A history that's surreal
It helped us all to get a vote,
Produced the steel for rail
We all should be indebted,
To GlynEbwy, Ebbw Vale.
Thatcher closed the coal mines,
In 1989
July the 5th 2002,
Became the Foundries time
They thought that Ebbw Vale would die,
That it would not survive
But true determination,
Has helped keep the town alive
Unity and freedom,
“UNDEB A RHYDDID”
A motto born of pride and faith,
Helped locals in their bid
To build a better future,
They knew just what to do
And with the garden festival,
In 1992
A new light shone down on the town,
And helped them all to cope
New jobs, New shops, New houses built,
And with that came new hope
A town that once was put to sleep,
Awoken with a start
A Lily in a valley,
Full of flowers in my heart |
Sitting like the others in an easy chair,
with nothing else to do to except sit and stare.
she is waiting now for her cup of tea,
another wait, to see what dinner will be.
The routine is the same whatever the day
and everyone knows they are there to stay.
Perhaps that is why you see no happy face
or meet someone, who wants to be in the place.
So they sit together with hardly a word,
there is nothing to say, that has not been heard.
Staring at the wall with one eye on the door,
no regular visitors come anymore.
The she wonders who cares, that she is in care,
who is responsible for putting her there.
with no way out, through they never lock the gates,
she has no option, she just sits and waits |
Reveille -
Bill Randel |
The Men the could't Hang -
Ironnasters |
Reveille has been sounded,
get up has been the call,
a new day has been started
it will last until night fall.
Water in the tap there is to wash my hands and face
My Gazette is in the news rack,
my breakfast on the plate,
my shopping I’ve thinking,
what will I want today ,
there are children playing behind my house,
there noises make my day,
my daughter is on the telephone,
she asks how are you today
I say very well thank you,
it's another bonus day,
what about my prescription
will you take it in
I’ve only got one tablet left
i think I’m going thin
i think I’ll write a letter.
to whom i don’t know yet,
and tell them what I’m thinking
and the things that make me fret
the following is taken for granted
it's part of our everyday
freedom from want, freedom of speech,
freedom of religion and freedom from fear
we must not forget the sacrifices
made by so many people in the past
that we all may live in peace, unity and happiness
and we have got to make it last. |
Oh this is an old story that’s rarely ever told
the raping of the country, of the valley
the men who came to reap with a musket and a bible
they wanted to take the valley
the valley! the valley!
they wanted to take the valley
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
and so far a pittance all the people worked the land
all the men and the women and the children
and on sundays it was down to the chapel in the town
the preacher said give generously!
give generously! give generously!
the people they gave generously
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
the union met in secret on the dark side of the hill
by the light of a thousand candles
their pay had been cut, all the people come on out
and by scores they were joining Rebecca
Rebecca! Rebecca!
the people were joining Rebecca
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
riot!
ironmaster, call the army
call the hungry from the irish sea
ironmaster, call the parliament
it’s no sin to fight to be free!
from the smokey stacks of merthyr
to the hills of Ebbw vale
from Swansea docks to Merseyside and Liverpool
with the union leaders crushed
and the union quickly smashed
they blackend the face of the country
the country! the country!
they blackend the face of the country
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
now on a hill in Brecon is Crawshay’s ruined house
and it blackens out the green of the valley
and on the battered grave is the epitaph they gave
it stands there, god forgive him!
forgive him! forgive him!
and all who rot in hell with him
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
riot!
ironmaster, call the army
call the hungry from the irish sea
ironmaster, call the parliament
it’s no sin to fight to be free!
and oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
and oh the ironmasters, they still get their way! |
The Sunday school outing -
Derek Allcard (Born and bred in Newtown) |
|
We’re all in bed by half past eight,
we’re up early in the morning
Down to the station, crack of dawn,
all excited but still yawning
We’re going with the Sunday school,
a day at Barry Island
We’re regular attendees all,
each Sunday running down the hill
Into the vestry we all charge,
sit down and then be very still
Scoring all the points we need,
for a day at Barry Island
The train is full of kids and mums,
new spades and buckets bought for play
The steam train gives a mighty roar,
and then we’re off and on our way
From the valleys, down we go,
for a day at Barry Island
We pass through Risca,
Newport too, on further West without a stop
Then suddenly we see the sea,
we’re nearly there just one short hop
Pulling in to Barry station for a day in Barry Island
Down to the beach and in the sea,
brave but shivering in the cold
The Bristol channel’s never warm,
but you don’t care when nine years old
You’ve waited all year round for this,
a day at Barry Island
We’ve had our fill of sea and sand,
and so we head off to the fair
We ride the dodgems, eat hot dogs,
we all are happy without care
The time is going oh so quick on our trip to Barry Island
Now suddenly the day is gone,
we pack our bags then on the way
Sunburned, sick or just tired out,
the train chugs on ‘round Cardiff bay
We’ve had another lovely day,
on our trip to Barry Island
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