bevin boy (Remove filter)
Bevin Boy
Bevin Boy
Ernest Bevin got his pound of flesh
as I sucked on my Woodbine,
one of the ‘lucky’ ten percent
who were standing there in line
waiting to be conscripted -
but they decided to assign
me to a living hell
and send me down the mine.
So I toiled for years in darkness
and breathed in black diamond dust,
until my back was broken
along with all the t...
Sunday 16th September 2018 12:36 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
2 hours ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
4 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
6 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
8 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
12 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
13 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
15 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
15 hours ago