Along These Lines.

Today folk amble along mine tracks Where once tin was hard hauled. Inclines were handled by boys, blackened With pit dust, bare armed, mauled By overfilled trucks. Bal-maidens worked Here too, loading ore. Fine young Females, hair capped, their laughter shirking The rules. Slack was, among Such tender crews not allowed, they sang Though, mining ballards, loudly. As shovel struck ore, these tracks just rang With young voices, as, proud Of their Cornishness, they kept in line. Silent now, old mine tracks Still ring with lost childhood, and some nights We hear singing come back.