A HAND-WRITTEN poem about the Pretoria Pit disaster of 100 years ago has been discovered.
And now the search is on to find who penned the anonymous poem.
The 100th anniversary of the tragedy will be marked in December.
Researchers have been unable to identify the author, although some suggest the poem was written by a young girl reflecting on the blast, which happened when she was a baby.
Roy Walmsley, aged 80, of Regent Road, Lostock, came across a print of the poem after reading an article about Pretoria in The Bolton News.
He believes the four-page poem was written shortly after the 1910 blast which killed 344, and a copy was given to his parents who were married a year later.
Mr Walmsley said: “It must have been written at the time and perhaps circulated, and that’s how they picked it up.
“Of course, they have been dead quite a while now and I imagine I picked it up going through their belongings.
“I remembered I had it when I saw a newspaper article about Pretoria.”
Another Lostock resident, Mary Berry, of Heaton Road, claims to have the original poem, but has no idea who wrote it. She found it in a box of her mother’s belongings when she died five years ago.
Ted Wisedale, a member of Westhoughton Local History Group, said the poem could have been written by Mary’s mother some years after the event as she would have been only six months old at the time.
He said there were “tears in the house” when he read the poem during a recent talk at Horwich Rotary Club.
The poem touches upon the feelings of the children and wives of those who died in the blast and how their families were affected at Christmas time.
Westhoughton councillor Harry Bowling, chairman of the Pretoria Pit Disaster committee, said he hoped to put a name to the poem before the service on December 21 so copies can be made and distributed to guests.
Friends just listen to my story
Which I'm about to tell
Of those brave and faithful heroes
Who met their death so well.
It was not in a foreign country
Nor far over the sea,
It was near the town of Bolton, Atherton and Leigh.
In health and strength they left their homes
On that fatal morn,
They little thought upon the road
That they would ne'er return.
Down the mine they all descend With a smile upon each face,
They little thought that death was near
In that dark and dismal place.
On they worked about an hour Hewing coal the while,
Then a fearful crash was heard And then a sad, sad, cry.
A crash like thunder
Was heard from far and near,
It made the people wonder And tremble in alarm.
Around the town the news did spread
To people far and near
That a terrible thing had happened To those they loved so dear.
Fathers'n'mothers rushed to the mine
When they heard the news,
Of those brave and faithful colliers
Who were there entombed.
Hour after hour they waited
On that fatal day,
Only to learn God had called them
To their home away.
Then a bishop past that way
And offered up a prayer,
That God would help the rescuers And all who perished there.
Darkness crept around the pit
Stars shone out on high
“Jesus Lover of my Soul” sang they
With eyes raised to the sky.
Mothers turned homewards
With heads bowed low with grief,
To their lonely cottage There to sob and weep.
Soon within a cottage
A child is heard to say,
"Where is my daddy mother
Will he not come home to day?"
She gently carries it away
To its little bed,
And softly whispers to it Child, your father's dead.
Its father had been telling her
Of Santa Claus so dear,
Who fills her dainty stocking With Christmas toys to cheer.
Such as about a dolly Which they all love so well,
Which I had been denied it And christmas joy as well.
Now all you little children
Who have a father's care,
Just kneel down at bedtime
And offer up a prayer.
And ask the God above you
To hear you in your prayer,
To help those little children Who have no father's care.
And all you begreived mothers
The loss you so much grieve,
Just think they've gone to heaven
To guide you on your way.
One more line before I end That on the judgement day,
Your loved ones they will meet you
With a smile upon your way.
So don't despise a collier
Tho' black and grim he be,
There's a home in Heaven for him
As their is for you and me.
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