After Hepburn's Union

I tried, God knows I did

And more proud men than me

We did our best with best intent

To make us heard at least

I'd felt the pitiful state

In which we had been kept

With bodies and minds both enchained

Made blindly to accept

But then, on the Black Fell

And the Town Moor

A multitude with one voice

They'd come from Bedlington

And Wheatley Hill

A union at last

We saw the strength that we had

But so did those on high

Rather than recognise our pleas

They forced us out on strike

First, we had to dispel

The false taint on our trade

An image of savage and godless men

We countered with restraint

But such had the men endured

Had been doing so

Since tender years in the black

My entreaties to hold firm

Were not enough

The union cracked

And my name became a plague

On those who had held most firm

Cast out from work in every place

Until I vowed never more

To gather men and make demands

And never say the word again

Our strength, forged from the rock

And our patience too

We know how to wait, and undeterred

Waiting's what we'll do

The golden chain will be snapped

And the owners then

Will sigh to themselves for days gone by

As ordinary men