POEMS

'The following lines (which are actually song words but can be read as a poem) are based on a love letter to my mother from my father during his time as a Bevin Boy, written while he was sitting on a hill in Wales, which we found it in their belongings after they passed away in 2004 and 2005 respectively (my sister has it now). I didn't set out to write about it; it all just started appearing in my head one night, and I knew I had to write it down.'  Keith Rowley

Bevin Boy

The stars look down at night,
Cast an eerie kind of light,
And the clouds throw their shadow on the hillside.
And I'm looking at the view,
And my mind comes back to you,
And I'm lost in the glitter of the starshine.

Circumstances say
I should be so far away,
While this war that rages on keeps us apart,
But I hope you're safe and sound
While I'm working underground,
Please know I keep you always in my heart.

They took too many miners,
Sent them off to fight the war,
But needed men to keep the coal hoists turning,
Bevin sent us to the pit,
So that we could we do our bit
To dig the coal to keep the home fires burning.

So keep your feelings pure,
For my love for you endures,
Though miles separate us, I'm sincere,
I will return one day
From this valley far away,
And our love will see us safely through the years.

It happened like he said,
He returned, and soon they wed,
And for fifty years were married to each other.
And all I've said is true,
For the story I've told you,
Is a letter from my father to my mother.

Your Farewell from Crynant

Farewell dear comrade, farewell

As you depart for native land

Where you’ll entertain your friends with many tales

Of the time you spent way down in Wales

You came here to help in the battle for coal

Changed from a city boy to a human mole

But I think you never did regret

The changes, because of the friends you met

Friends that will miss you for years to come

For their friendship and confidence you had won

In work, and on the sporting field

Your absence, all brynawell will miss

And most of all we’ll miss you on the corner

Where we all spent many a happy hour

You are leaving now the hardship of the colliery

To your old job in the refrigerator factory

And when you are snug and warm in your new abode

Think of your comrades down in Cefn Coed

Tell the cockneys as they sit around the fire

Of the courage and sacrifices of the miner

So, as I hope that you succeed to reach the top

Let your memory go back to the nights in shanty shop

And if you meet a Welshman, shake him by the hand

In friendship for your stay in that little land.

Skid Bace (November 1947)

(Thanks to John Breeden for this poem which was given to him from a friend when he was demobbed in 1947)