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it stands so proud, the wheels so still A ghost-like figure on the hill It seems so strange there is no sound Now there are no men underground What will become of this pit yard? Where men once trampled faces hard So tired and weary their shift?s done Never having seen the sun There?ll always be a happy hour For those with money, jobs and power They?ll never realise the hurt They cause to men they treat like dirt Will it become a sacred ground? Foreign tourists gazing round Asking if men once worked here Way beneath this pit-head gear Empty trucks once filled with coal Lined up like men on the dole Will they e?er be used again? Or left for scrap just like the men? There?ll always be a happy hour For those with money, jobs and power They?ll never realise the hurt They cause to men they treat like dirt Aus Songtexte Mania