Read by his great-grandson Richard Crowther.

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I sat beside my fireside,
One dark and stormy night.
The rain came down in torrents,
Some people alarmed at the sight.
I thought of the gallant miner
Who works for our warmth and light.
Hard at work at the coal face,
Deep down in the mine.
So play the game with the miner,
Don’t drive him to the wall.
But give him a living wage sir,
And he’ll answer our country’s call.