I’m minded of canary bird -
though ornithologists knows best -
it seams that miners, ingrained black
should descend, carry, no caged lift,
the pristine yellow still encased,
to test the level, methane gas.
What oratorio she sings,
in concert hall of props and beams,
where pony trap and bent-low men
were picked to shovel carbon wall.
Davey the Coal too common name
beneath the slag from village pit,
but wood, the lads come lamplit coal
work on, encore, closed music hall?
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