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Baggeridge Pit by Gary Westwood
The queen of pits
Was Baggeridge mine,
The best the biggest
In her time.
Hard men toiled
Hour on hour,
Cutting coal
For heat and power.
Her coal,
The finest in the land,
Moved by horse
And hewn by hand.
The richest seam,
Nine yards and more,
South Staffs Thick
From roof to floor.
They worked the Dudley,
Sutherland, East and West
For Baggeridge coal
Surpassed the rest.
Through two world wars
She gave us light
Providing fuel
to help the fight.
In peace time too,
She filled our needs,
Work for those
With mouths to feed.
There were times
Her plight was dire,
Bad floor, bad roof,
Spontaneous fire.
But good men fought
And put things right,
They worked all day
And then by night.
Throughout all this,
The sweat and smoke,
Humour lived,
The one line joke.
And in the years
Since good and bad,
I can’t forget the ‘loffs’ we had.
Now as I walk
Her woodland glade,
I remember still,
The friends I made.
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