ABERFAN
On a drear Friday morning in a little Welsh town
A man-made mountain came tumbling down
It slid down the hillside like a giant black hand
That plucked all the children from Aberfan
Down in Pantglas schoolhouse children laughed, sang and played
When down came that mountain the mining men made
More than one hundred lives lost before they began
A lost generation in Aberfan
A heart-aching mother stood watching with dread
As men brought out children all broken and dead
She'd stood at the pithead to wait for her man
Now gone, too, her children in Aberfan
The cross on the hillside looks over the town
That a man-made mountain brought to world renown
And in the shelter of its mighty span
Lie all the lost children of Aberfan
Now come you mine owners that profit from coal
And don't take the life of another young soul
Bury your waste just as deep as you can
Lest you bury your children, like Aberfan
Black is the life of a mining man
In he bowels of the earth with a pick and a lamp
Black is the life of a mining man
But blacker the memory of Aberfan
