An old coal tipple [ unchained ]

An old coal tipple [ unchained ] The weathered beams groan Like a young miners moan When too early he has to rise Or too early he dies Loose, rusted tin screams in the wind, or was that the widow of a long lost friend? The crossties beneath are soft with rot like the miners that we forgot who suffer slow death from lack of breath; It's black lung!! Or was that a myth?! Now there's no more coal cars demanding their load but there's no more black cars on that long slow road. Tomorrow, this tipple will fall to the track, and their sorrow when my people look back will make them the stronger for the task at hand for they'll be no longer, chained to this land!! —Kenneth D. Haynes 76 ...