Go to the Road

You’re selling your son’s job, not your job
When you’re a young pit goer, like this, you wanna pick up the other pitmates
every one of them
United we stand, united we bloody fall, the lot of you ought to say
The offers that we’ve been having now, nothing short of disgusting
They’ve been promising this and promising that. We know no self if we’re gonna
end up with a job
The way it’s going now, we’ve been chucked on the scrapheap
The union have accepted it, the party have accepted it, and they’ve made know
to us that under no uncertain terms, that we’ve reached the end of the road