Pelsall Hall Colliery Accident
Come all weary colliers come,
And listen to my rending story;
Concerning twenty-two poor colliers,
Doomed to death but hope in glory.
Suddenly a pit was flooded,
By the hand of a working man
And twenty two poor victims plunging
In that awful watery dam.
On the fourteenth of November
The awful news spread far and near.
To friends, relatives, sorrowing workmen,
That held their comrades very dear.
But O! The fearful flood was pouring,
More and more it seemed to rise,
To blast the hopes that still was in,
The never tiring men’s employs.
But now the water’s fairly mastered,
The Inset Bar is come in view;
Every hearts full of expecting,
The promised site they long to view.
Now down the pit two men descending,
On the tank with light in hand;
But hark a word, a noise ascending,
Bidding the engine for to stand.
Draw up, draw up, as quick as possible,
Or death will be our lot below;
As choke damp now the pit is filling,
Fast or our hold we shall let go.
Now on the bank you see them totter,
As though their limbs had lost their use.
And many a prayer to God was offered,
As the men did not let loose.
Men and women broken hearted,
As the news was passed around;
That all hope had been abandoned,
That no live men would be found.
But pump and air was working bravely,
In the deadly mine below,
And soon it cleared to make it healthy,
For the willing braves to go.
But now the bodies are recovered,
Awe stricken at the sight we look.
Close together their corpses huddled,
Altogether in a nook.
As if they met to hold communion.
With their God who is on high;
To lift a prayer and ask deliverance,
From the tomb as death was nigh.
O the anxious moments flying,
Seemed no doubt a year to them;
And their strength and mind o’rpowered.
Give up the ghost, and cry amen.
To the God who loves the orphan,
And the widow in her tears;
With hand outstretched to help them,
With His grace in after years.
May he touch the brave, the generous,
With the wand of kindness dear;
To help the widow and the orphan,
To dry up the briny tear.
As on the country they are depending,
For a livelihood through life.
And each giver will be a blessing,
To them in this world of strife.
Then may God with all His glory,
Take them to His rest above.
Where all toils and dangerous ending.
And all strife turned to love.
There to sing with hymns and praises,
To the Lamb for ever blest;
Around the throne with wife and husband
These verses were composed by W.R. Morgan, Artist, 3 King Street, Dawley.
Where copies may be had.