Tom: G major•
Verse 1
the wheels so still
Am
G
A ghost- like fig ure on the hill
It seems so strange, there is no sound
Am
G
Now there are no men underground
D
G
Am
What will become of this pit yard?
D
G
Where men once trampled faces hard
So tired and weary,
their shift's done
Am
G
Never having seen the
sun!
Verse 2
Am
There'll always be a happy hour
D
G
For those with money, jobs
and power
They'll never realise the hurt
D
Am
G
They cause to men they treat like dirt
Verse 3
G
Will it become a sacred ground
Foreign tourists gazing round
Asking if men once worked here
Way beneath this pit head gear?
D
Am
Empty trucks once filled with coal
D
G
Lined up like men on the dole
Will they ever be used again
Or left for scrap just like the men?
Verse 4
G
Am
happy hour
G
For those with money, jobs and power
They'll never realise the hurt
D
G
Am
G
They cause to men they treat like dirt
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesG Am D
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