OUR KEIGHLEY by Eric D BISHOP
Deep in the heart of the buildings in town
buried deep in the bricks hard and cold,
there lies a world that very few know
and a story that waits to be told.
If the streets could tell of the sights they have seen
or the cobbles that people have trod,
the stately old trees, the seasons have passed
and the church where folk worshipped their God.
In the graveyard the memory of folk who have gone
their tragedies that have passed the world by,
the heartache, the suffering, that we cannot know
if we could, we surely would cry.
The child aged just ten, lies asleep in the earth,
no longer will she go to work,
in the cold grey morn, scarce a rag on her back
to the mill through the fog and the murk.
The pretty young lady with life still ahead
who stayed out with her lover too long,
when wind from the hills, chilled to the bone
now she’ll ne’er hear the lark’s happy song.
But as we go round the town, day upon day
spare a thought for those who are gone,
For with their courage, sorrow and joy
their lives, in our history will go on!
Copyright Eric D. Bishop who has very kindly given me permission to reproduce it on the website.