I, Ll Dance On Your Grave Mrs Thatcher

just a lad of sixteen summers
when the mining gates locked
i stood there with my brothers
some with there rifles cocked
just hold on to youe shirt me boys
this is going the hole way
dont you worry was the answer back
were with you arthur all the way

and we, ll dance yes we, ll dance
yes we, ll danceon your grave mrs thatcher

she had come well prepared
with the coal that she, d amassed
everyday she, d try to break us down
take the flag down from the mast
but we stood there all united
exept the scabs down from the south
with there crys for a ballott
taking food from our kids mouths

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poem by John Mccullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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