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The Pit Heid Lass


Wis the mine or the factry

Nae contest.

Ye aye chose fresh air an the layers o stoor

Ower a chokin room wi yon clankin machines;

Oh ay, the pits hud their machines tae, they did

Lood as thunner an screechin a hoolie,

But ower them ye could still hear the birds oft times,

See em dip in the distance

As ye ate yer piece at the noon bell.

An the lads are guid craik

Tough but kind unner the crackit coal

Smearin their nebs an their lives.

Ye lou the grin o they lads,

Feel lucky tae be earnin yer ain keep, tae.

Keepin aa they wheels turnin

Whiles the gulls gyre ower heid.

Poem copyright Larissa Reid

Artwork copyright Elspeth Knight

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