 | Poems, Ballads and Bucolics |  |
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THE BRAVE PIT LADS OF PENICUICK.
We can march to death or glory
When the sun is shining over,
And the daylight shall discover
All our deeds' heroic story.
When the sun is shining over,
And the daylight shall discover
All our deeds' heroic story.
But with spade and plain pickaxes
At the cannon's mouth to labour—
Neighbour hardly seen of neighbour
For the gloom—our courage taxes.
At the cannon's mouth to labour—
Neighbour hardly seen of neighbour
For the gloom—our courage taxes.
Penicuick!
now praise the mother
Of the lads who proved the proudest,
When earth's cannon roared its loudest
And the pit was filled with smother.
Of the lads who proved the proudest,
When earth's cannon roared its loudest
And the pit was filled with smother.
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Who knew now was time or never—
Who flew back through fume and stifle
Deeming risk of life a trifle,
Daring death to crown endeavour.
Who flew back through fume and stifle
Deeming risk of life a trifle,
Daring death to crown endeavour.
Boys to whistle, laugh, and sing,
Bare-legged laddies like the rest,
Boys to dance a Highland fling,
Boys to find the falcon's nest.
Bare-legged laddies like the rest,
Boys to dance a Highland fling,
Boys to find the falcon's nest.
Boys impatient of their books—
So the Dominie would say—
Merry-hearted as the brooks,
When the cuckoo calls in May.
So the Dominie would say—
Merry-hearted as the brooks,
When the cuckoo calls in May.
But we loved them up above
And we loved them down beneath,
Such brave lads the “corves” to shove—
Never tired nor out of breath.
And we loved them down beneath,
Such brave lads the “corves” to shove—
Never tired nor out of breath.
If a brattice-cloth went wrong,
If a pit prop wanted bringing,
Robbie sure would come along,
Set all right, and go off singing.
If a pit prop wanted bringing,
Robbie sure would come along,
Set all right, and go off singing.
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If a trolley rail had “scattered,”
Or a waggon wouldn't run—
Tam was there, and nothing mattered,
All was whistle, all was fun.
Or a waggon wouldn't run—
Tam was there, and nothing mattered,
All was whistle, all was fun.
And, when air was well nigh spent,
And we gasped our blows between,
Through the gloom young Mitchell went,
Glad as up on Shottstown green.
And we gasped our blows between,
Through the gloom young Mitchell went,
Glad as up on Shottstown green.
In your heart such laddies grow
If you have a heart to love,
Ah! we loved them here below—
Now we love them up above.
If you have a heart to love,
Ah! we loved them here below—
Now we love them up above.
I but heard the muffled thunder,
And the fiery blast flew by,—
God save all the poor men under
There in that far gallery!
And the fiery blast flew by,—
God save all the poor men under
There in that far gallery!
Then towards me, bruised and bleeding,
From bewildering darkness ran
Two brave boys, of nothing heeding—
“Help our comrades all you can!”
From bewildering darkness ran
Two brave boys, of nothing heeding—
“Help our comrades all you can!”
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Help whom? Death, no longer lurking,
Reigns; again earth's guns will roar—
Flame will flash from work to working,
After it the reek will pour.
Reigns; again earth's guns will roar—
Flame will flash from work to working,
After it the reek will pour.
Stand still, laddies! who draw breath
Know their doom, and they who fell
In that sulphur-wind of Death
Know not—all with them is well.
Know their doom, and they who fell
In that sulphur-wind of Death
Know not—all with them is well.
“Nay!” they cried, “though death we meet;
Comrades sealed to certain doom
Shall—if we but keep our feet—
Hear our voices through the gloom.
Comrades sealed to certain doom
Shall—if we but keep our feet—
Hear our voices through the gloom.
“Hear us bid them up and follow,
Break their dark imprisonment!”
So into Death's dreadful hollow,
Back the gallant laddies went.
Break their dark imprisonment!”
So into Death's dreadful hollow,
Back the gallant laddies went.
After the first terrific explosion in the Penicuick Pit, when volumes of smoke were pouring down the shaft, and the cry, “The pit's afire,” had struck terror into the stoutest heart, three pit lads—Robert Tolmie, Thomas Foster, and Mitchell Hamilton— refused to avail themselves of the comparative safety that their nearness to the upcast shaft gave them, and against the advice of the older men, insisted on running back into the workings with the hope of warning comrades in a further part of the pit. They perished on their brave errand.
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