THE RUNAWAY by Arthur Cole

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This is a poem by Arthur Cole about the village of Caerau, South Wales, picking coal from an overturned lorry.


'When growing up in my home village of Caerau, South Wales, it was nothing unusual to see on a Sunday morning

a fully laden coal truck on its side, and most of the village picking it clean before the bobbies arrived...'THOSE WERE THE DAYS' as Mary Hopkin used to sing'.

Were any of our members, one of the unknown? 



Under the screens, the deed would be done.

a truck runs away, at least 20 ton.

The brake was released by persons unknown.

away down the track, at speed it would go.

Crowds gathered quick, the bounty in site.

coal for the families, to help with their plight.

"Don't let it pass" a loud voice would shout.

change the points quick, time's running out.

Points changed as ordered, truck losing speed.

straight up the gradient, a fine site indeed.

Then with a crash, the truck gets derailed.

toppling over, the bounty revealed.

Barrows and buckets, out of the blue.

coal duly picked, like ants, it's their due.

Lookouts kept watch for coppers a plenty.

by the time they arrived, the truck it was empty.

Valley life was hard, way back then in the day,

coal that was scavenged, kept cold nights at bay.

Back to the future, with my cover now blown.

yes you have guessed, I was that unknown.


Copyright: Arhtur Cole (9), 2016


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