Those colliery officials were a comical breed.
To think their instructions we had to heed!
If empties were needed they said the rope was too slow,
It made you want to let the damned things go.
Down the haulage at a hell of a rate, for without a clip, their speed we could not dictate.
If timber was short their report said sufficient,
Though everyone knew it was deficient,
For ventilation they recorded adequate
Even though your lamp went out in the main gate,
The roof they stated as being good
But it dinna look like that from where we stood.
The distance between props was governed by a regulation,
But if timber was short they ignored that stipulation,
To suit themselves the rules they would bend,
All the way out to the loading end,
Even there they would not toe the line,
They sent tubs up the haulage 10 at a time.
Out to the manrider you could go if you were late,
But if you were early you got fined out of your weekly rate,
Going out you were not supposed to run,
You could going in, but that was not so much fun,
At pit bottom they obeyed only one sign,
That each deck of the cage took only 16 men a time.
