The Talking Ground

There’s a dreaded sound in the underground that a miner gets to know

When he’s on his own working all alone, several hundred feet below

He casts his light where it’s black as night, for a place that’s safe to walk

And he holds his breath, it’s the voice of death, when the ground begins to talk

Then he finds a place near a worked out face where the backs look firm and tight

And he crouches there with an ill-mouthed prayer as he hopes to Christ he’s right

He recalls a mate, who met his fate in a fall in bygone years

Then he sees his wife with her shattered life, and three young kids in tears

And he wonders why he should have to die long before he’s gotten old

Throw his life away for the lousy pay he collects for mining gold

Then the roar and thud fairly chills his blood and he fights the urge to run

He says “Nick old mate, you’ll just have to wait, for my name’s not on that one”

Then he stops at last, and he gets out fast, for he has no wish to die

But he’s not prepared to admit he’s scared, he would rather live a lie

Still he screams in fright as he sleeps at night, and he feels a strange disgrace

But he surely knows, when the whistle blows, he’ll be back there at the brace

You may wonder why such  a man as I, out here farming on the land

Thinks he’d know the fear when the end is near, or could even understand

Well I spent some time in my youth and prime, working in the mining game

And I know the sound of the talking ground, for I’ve heard it speak my name

The Talking Ground: P. Blyth / P. Gray

Underground miners swear that they hear the ground “talk”, particularly just before a rock fall.  Peter Blyth wrote these words based on simple advice given to him just after he commenced working underground.  “When you hear the ground “talk”, stop and walk away.”  Phil Gray put the tune to these words.