Son of a Miner

My Dad was raised in the town land of Tigroney,
Then later settled across the river in Ballygahan,
Native to Avoca, a picturesque valley, and his birthplace,
He never thought it necessary to emigrate away from this place.
Dad signed up to be a miner in the Avoca mine workings,
Which provided him with monetary security and a regular pay day.
He enlisted in his midlife, and he was not a young man,
For years, he drilled underground in the dust and the dark.
He labored at the mine until he had a health incident so stark,
Known as Miners’ lung, which became his life altering illness,
Yet his habits went unchanged and smoking Woodbines was his curse,
His demeanor waned and around him his family thread with muted stress.
With his miners belt he oft beat his youngest boy and instilled a dread,
Those beatings left their scars and the boy often wished he had fled.

Dad left school at an immature age and then married in mid-life,
By the birth of his first child, he had already slogged for over twenty years.
Being illiterate, under-educated, he was ill suited to these circumstantial changes.
Following the old ways of doing work, from his dad’s time and too stubborn to change,
This being a handicap, his abilities and options quickly narrowed,
Working at the mines was extremely hard, and it continued around the family home,
Incapable of adapting to ongoing changes, or employing modern means of the day,
Such are his qualities and a legacy testament to his limitations.
One morning, while readying for work, he suddenly suffered a fateful attack.
He was taken away and never came back, the children left alone and without a dad,
The mining men and his kin bade him farewell, this episode in life that left us so sad.

My dad was gone and at thirteen, his youngest boy now suddenly became the man.
With his youth and puberty stolen he was ladened with this manhood role,
In sixty-nine, the Avoca mines came to life again, with Discovery, a bright new era started,
And gave the world a modern mining methodology, you were barely three years departed.
Then at sixteen, mom marched me to the mines, and made me an Avoca mining man.
Sentenced into mining perils is how my adult life abruptly began.
Having never said goodbye to dad, whom I miss to this day, there are times I feel so sad.
Unable to find closure, or have a proper conversation, leaves an emptiness inside,
Mostly unguided from thirteen and on, thus made my mistakes, and lessons of life learned.
Dad having passed on, and without his guiding hand, the perils youth played a huge demand.
Now in the current era you are unknown in the collective Ballygahan memory,
But your name is forever enshrined on a headstone in the local cemetery.
As time passed, my emotions were in a mess, joy, distress, loneliness, however, I did succeed.
Retired and on my home stretch of life, reflecting on my dad, he was a good man indeed.