5.15 A.M.
Snow laying all around
A collier cycles home
From his night shift underground
Past the silent pub
Primary school, workingmens club
On the road from the pithead
The churchyard packed
With mining dead
Then beneath the bridge
He comes to a giant car
A shroud of snow upon the roof
A mark ten jaguar
He thought the man was fast asleep
Silent, still and deep
Both dead and cold
Shot through
With bullet holes
The one armed bandit man
Came north to fill his boots
Came up from cockneyland
E-type jags and flashy suits
Put your money in
Pull the levers
Watch them spin
Cash cows in all the pubs
But he preferred the new nightclubs
Nineteen sixty-seven
Bandit men in birdcage heaven
La dolce vita, sixty-nine
All new to people of the tyne
Who knows who did what
Somebody made a call
They said his hands
Were in the pot
That he'd been skimming hauls
He picks up the swag
They gaily gave away
Drives his giant jag
Off to his big pay day
The bandit man
Came north to fill his boots
Came up from cockneyland
E-type jags and flashy suits
The bandit man
Came up the great north road
Up to geordieland
To mine
The mother lode
Seams blew up or cracked
Black diamonds came hard won
Generations toiled and hacked
For a pittance and black lung
Crushed by tub or stone
Together
And alone
How the young and old
Paid the price of coal
Eighteen sixty-seven
My angel's gone to heaven
He'll be happy there
Sunlight and sweet clean air
They gather round the glass
Tough hewers and crutters
Child trappers and putters
The little foals and half-marrows
Who pushed
And pulled the barrows
The hod boys
And the rolleywaymen
5.15 A.M.
Snow laying all around
A collier cycles home
From his night shift underground
Past the silent pub
Primary school, workingmens club
On the road from the pithead
The churchyard packed
With mining dead
Then beneath the bridge
He comes to a giant car
A shroud of snow upon the roof
A mark ten jaguar
He thought the man was fast asleep
Silent, still and deep
Both dead and cold
Shot through
With bullet holes
The one armed bandit man
Came north to fill his boots
Came up from cockneyland
E-type jags and flashy suits
Put your money in
Pull the levers
Watch them spin
Cash cows in all the pubs
But he preferred the new nightclubs
Nineteen sixty-seven
Bandit men in birdcage heaven
La dolce vita, sixty-nine
All new to people of the tyne
Who knows who did what
Somebody made a call
They said his hands
Were in the pot
That he'd been skimming hauls
He picks up the swag
They gaily gave away
Drives his giant jag
Off to his big pay day
The bandit man
Came north to fill his boots
Came up from cockneyland
E-type jags and flashy suits
The bandit man
Came up the great north road
Up to geordieland
To mine
The mother lode
Seams blew up or cracked
Black diamonds came hard won
Generations toiled and hacked
For a pittance and black lung
Crushed by tub or stone
Together
And alone
How the young and old
Paid the price of coal
Eighteen sixty-seven
My angel's gone to heaven
He'll be happy there
Sunlight and sweet clean air
They gather round the glass
Tough hewers and crutters
Child trappers and putters
The little foals and half-marrows
Who pushed
And pulled the barrows
The hod boys
And the rolleywaymen
5.15 A.M.
Lyrics submitted by redmax
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I love this song. Gentle and calm, but about tough and dangerous things (both the cut-throat world of the new clubs, and, of course, the mining communities).
I never understood what “they gather round the glass” meant so thanks, psychobob for pointing out that the ghosts of the mining people are around the car, presumably to meet a new ghost who’s met a violent, lonely end a little like they have.
Oh and the jobs mentioned at the end of the song are:
The hewer is the man who actually hacks the coal from the seam. The crutter was the man who cut the passages towards the coal seams, often using explosives.
The trappers were (heartbreakingly) young children who operated wooden trap doors to let through the carts. The traps were there to direct the fresh air and ventilate the mine. These children would remain at their posts, in the dust and darkness for up to eighteen hours a day.
Putters were the men who loaded and took away the baskets or barrows of coal left by the hewers. Often a boy would be used for his agility and size, but if he wasn’t strong enough to carry the baskets, he’d have an even smaller boy to help. This little lad was known as a foal and the bigger boy was called a half-marrow. Foal here refers to a child not a pit pony.
The hod boys took the baskets of coal to the wagons, which would usually be pulled by pit ponies to take the coal out along the passages, or rolley ways. The rolley-way men made sure these passages, which the ponies used, remained clear and free-flowing.
Incidentally, black lung is pneumoconiosis, caused, as you’d expect, by inhaling coal dust.
wow, these details add a lot to the lyrics. thanks.