Tank's Poetry
Tank's Poetry |
united states mine rescue association
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The clouds cover up the clear blue sky, It's black as coal, down in the mine, Life goes on, day by day, It's hard to feed a family on a miner's pay. Another day, with no daylight, That's the way for a miners life, Nobody knew as they left home. Nine would stay, and nine would go. Coal dust flying, dirty and black, Out of nowhere, you hear, "Get Back", A wall of water, 4 feet high, They all thought they would drown and die. Nine men scrambled from a coal black grave, Nine more below were left to save, Nose deep in water, the Boss threw a rope, Nowhere to go, and not much hope. They finally stumbled to a shaft up high, They all crawled in and prepared to die, Cold and wet, scared to death, They huddled for warmth and prayed for breath. They spoke of Home, Heaven, and Hell, And many things, they'd never tell, They heard the machines from way up high, Prayed for forgiveness, and tried not to cry. Families gathered, in the old Fire Hall, Prayer Groups formed, to save them all, Drilling crews came from far away, They worked like dogs day after day. Nine knocks came on a ventilation pipe, 12 hours gone, and they were alright, A Hope, A Prayer, A Thread of Light, They worked for three days, and four long nights. The town folks came, with hot warm food, Will they make it or not, no one knew, The Governor cried, the families prayed, The drills kept drilling, there were men to save. 70 some hours, and the drills broke through, to a would be grave, and a Mining Crew, Nine were alive, wet and cold, A Miracle for all, 250 feet below. The Quecreek mine, a Pennsylvania town, Brought together by prayer, Lost faith was found, The clouds blew away and left a clear blue sky. Nine Lucky Miners are still alive. |
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