The Cage

By Bill Riley

I have the most important job in any deep coal pit,
The men both love and hate me but I get used to it.

They hate me at the start of every solitary shift,
As I carry them below ground, I can sense a sort of rift.

When they leave me I know they’re not a happy lot,
It’s not my fault, I’m not to blame, I don’t write the plot.

I don’t know what transforms them, or what they do inbye,
Cause the next time that I see them I’m warmly greeted, Hi!

They’re so happy now to see me, it fills my heart with joy,
They had left me in a bad mood, so now, what is their ploy?

They are smiling; they are singing; laughing, joking, full of hope,
Perhaps the work they do inbye cleanses them, so they don’t mope.

I try not to get too friendly, as I know it will not last,
Their affection is short lived, as I’ve discovered in the past.

The next shift, when they come back, faces full of pain,
I can tell it’s back to normal and they hate me once again.

I often wondered as I waited; why they don’t live inbye forever,
Their time at home makes them so sad, that can’t be very clever.

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