Tyldesley was
Intensity of coal dust
Coal dirt common
Grime on every wall
Mills
Towering blocks
Glass windowed factories
Machinery
Women mouthing words
Through constant noise
Men down mines
Deep down in the dark
In the light
Have a pint a lark
Whippets and allotments
Bowling greens the park
Keeping pigeons
Keep a vital spark
Wimpeys was a step up
From miners houses
From terraced streets
Where David used to dwell
Built up in the fields
Away up Shakerley
Fresh air feel
Gardens there as well
Tyldesley
Was a world unto it’s self
Its own language
Dialect accent drawl
It’s own people
Cornwall Wales and Ireland
All mixed in with Lanky folk
Miners, one and all
Brian Fahy
15 June 2021
Erris Poetry 