Stones Know

Fay Slimm.

 

 

Stones Know.

Strewn over seashores the evidence of Alquifou mining
for coppery tin.
Trussed amid moss in tufty green sward lies hidden past
keepsakes.
Forrays to deep earthed hot-holes needed just candles
on heads and valour.

Long wooden ladders oft wankled in unstable footholds
got dangerously thin.

Down the rashling
- - -__- - - - - -
would venture by 
- - - - - - - - - -
clogged foot or
- - -__- -- - -
plimsole if not
- - - - - - - -
too underclad  
- - - __- - -
in dire need.

Otherwise barefoot
which bettered men's 
grip on each rocky step
of mouldy wet to floor level.

Meal was a tumpy-top pasty
candled to hot or part-baked
tattie and bacon-fat wrapped
in floury rag was all some ate.

Besmutted by black end-croust was
dropped at feet of pit-ponies for crib.

No time to be lonely down there, yoiking a-plenty young
lasses wide-eyed the lads.
They laughed at a smidgen and cracked white smiles back
and forth across packs.
Trysts and tresses were forsayed as shorn or capped the
Bal Maidens sought catches.

A favovian wind meant moist homing
in shivery smicket to a tousled bothy
in fireside bathtub for swift de-slime
and hot gruel drink afore bedtime.

Tumbling around in dawn mist, next day's shift yawned
as they fratched

Derelict now only the stones know how it was and those
feathery grass-tufts waving alongside deep shafts of old 
relics  I wager still catch the faint scent of miners' ghosts.


N.B.
Alquifou = Cornish lead ore.
Yoiking = shouting in jest.
Forsayed = forbidden.
Favovian = west wind.
Smicket = a smock.
Fratch = a quarrel.

  • Author: Fay Slimm. (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 4th, 2022 09:22
  • Comment from author about the poem: A rather long read but am posting this verse for another airing thinking you might like to view it again as Cornish words have so much meaning. Hope you enjoy.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 39
  • User favorite of this poem: Paul Bell.
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Comments4

  • Neville


    I distinctly recall this when presumably hot off the press & enjoyed just now no less than when first encountered .. Did I ever mention my maternal Great Grandfather was the Captain of a Kernow Mine .. indeed I am in possession of an inherited heirloom comprised entirely of the very last silver extracted from it ... Priceless of course .. x

    • Fay Slimm.

      I certainly remember your mention Nev. of your family men working in Cornish mines How interesting . that your great grandfather was active as a mine captain.l What an amazing heirloom of silver to treasure and hand on to the next generation - captains of mines had duties of strict labour-oversight but had more comfortable houses - - I wonder whether it was at Gwinear near here your ancestor worked - that was the final place silver was mined but not much by that time of mid 1800s it seems.They were unbelievably long days when lads had to descend by many ladders to depths we cannot imagine. Thanks a load for the comment - I knew you'd enjoy the read...................x

    • Paul Bell

      Britain's mining history sure is a vast one. The tin mines went under the sea, I recall, so definitely a perilous trade. It is hard to visualise a cage taking you up to a mile underground to start your work. Dig the language.

      • Fay Slimm.

        Yes Paul - to go down and under the ocean to mine tin must have taken some doing before cages were used - they simply climbed down by many ladders tied together and to miss the next step was disastrous in the black of ascent. Thanks so much too for adding the write to your faves

      • Bella Shepard

        I love history come to life through clever verse. You take me to distant place and time with the imagery and vernacular of this piece. It is the first time I've seen it and I love it.

        • Fay Slimm.

          Ah - am so glad you were interested in my take of the life in working mines Bella -- accidents were rife in both ascent and descent and young lads were often among those who missed footings on old ladders and fell down to the bottom of shafts.

        • arqios

          Oh that the day would arise upon these steps upon the which Cornwall's skies and seas border, her moors and promontories beckon yet again with the reading of this poem. From my end, my father in law gifted me before he passed, a golden chain made from his private mining licence in the Atacama. Splendid read. Thanks for sharing.



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