TO A FORMER FRIEND
Aye lad — a thowt a knew yer — an a nivver thow’d ‘ad see
The day when tha’d go thro’ them gates — and turn thi back on me.
The lines an’ lines o’ bobbies — tried ter keep us all i’ place
But as the bus rushed by us all — a recognised yer face.
Ave worked wi’ you for all these years — a thowt you were mi mate
Ave watched yer back while workin’ — now a watch it thro’ the gate.
Wi’ve shared us jobs, wi’ve shared us snap, wi’ve shared us soap i’t bath
But there’ll bi no more sharin — in the bitter aftermath.
‘Cos Coal Board bowt yer heart an’ soul — wi’t promised bonus pay
It’s all a ‘Con’ — ‘Cos’t brass is what thi’ owed us anyway.
I ‘ope yer think it’s worth it — ‘cos this strike ‘as got to end
An’ tha mun look ther them th’as joined
When next tha needs a friend.
When former workmates started passing picket lines, the overwhelming emotion was not anger, but hurt, and disappointment. The words are mine, but, the sentiments are those of my son Thomas, on the day a ‘former friend’ went in at Ledston Luck.