Westhoughton Christmas 1910

 

 

 

 Westhoughton       Christmas 1910

 

 That Christmas Westhoughton mourned  its dead

 

For the mine had blown – just as they said

 

 December in  nineteen hundred and ten

 

 Howfen buried its boys and men

 

 The Angel of Death, pausing before each humble door

 

Had selected three hundred and forty four

 

And Christmas never came that year

 

From every house in silent street

 

Shawled against the winter sleet

 

Women processed on unwilling feet 

Shrouded in grief and devoid of tear

Mourned those whom they held so dear

Burdened with sorrows so raw on display

They came to bury their men that day

The remaining members of Wingates band

(Twice voted the finest in the land )

By each miner’s grave did stand

With tightened throats and hearts of lead

 Played funeral marches for the dead

With respect and dignity and pride

They said farewell to those who died

And we  gather each December still

 

We don't forget - we never will.

 

On that cold morn no church  bells rang

Proclaiming  peace and love and joy,

Just the measured knell of the passing bell,

Tolling for each lost  man and boy.

Ann Redburn 2014