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Saturday, November 9, 2013

A COAL MINERS SON



                                        

                          Bill Baldwin –abt 1949/50

I am sure you have heard of the Coal Miner’s Daughter

But have you heard of the coal miner’s son?

I am sure there are thousands somewhere in the world

And I know for sure that I am just one.


The story I tell is neither good nor bad

But a story of life, so it seems.

It is a story of William who was my dad

And some of our life and our dreams.


He toiled in a coal camp most of his life.

He and his kids and a devoted wife.

He once was teacher, a good one they say,

But could not stay with it because of the pay.


He lived in a coal camp, Mohrland, the town

Until the company would shut it down.

They moved a few miles to another coal town

Hiawatha the name and coal wore a crown.


“King Coal” was the sign on the tipple there

To Hiawatha no other town could compare.

There was a store, a Doctor, a school and a hall

Where entertainment took place both spring and fall.


William, the teacher, served the union while here

He was Secretary/Treasure for many a year.

He helped many a miner who could not read

As they came for advise in time of need.


“Bill” did not dig down deep in the mine

But worked on the tipple most of the time.

After a shift at the tipple he would trudge thru the snow

With black coal dust left behind each step he would go.


The children were born in Mohrland you see.

Just the two of us, My Sister and Me.

With “Bill” and his wife we did move one day

To Hiawatha, which was just a mountain away.


Like most miners who did toil in the coal camps they say

That “Black Lung” did come and it came to stay.

The miners retired and most moved away

But the “Black Lung” was there till their dying day.


“Bills” friends and his neighbors slowly moved away

And he and his wife saw no need to stay

In Hiawatha, the Home Town they had come to love

Surrounded by mountains with blue sky above.


They moved to the city where their kids did reside

But still talked of Hiawatha, with a lot of pride.

Each year they did gather with friends and relation

To talk of the old days with much explanation.


A reunion “Bill” called it, but much more than that

It was to get together, to eat and to chat.

They talked coal, snow and of course the town

And how it was now—extremely run down.


Black Lung was forgotten, at least for a time

As they talked of “King Coal” ,their friends and the mine.

Most of the miners are now “over the hill”

But I will always remember my Father, “Bill.”



Wallace R. Baldwin

Written 6 May 2002

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