The Twenty-nine.

From Kahurangi to South Westland
There’s a rolling wave of grief
You can feel it in the birdsong
In the flax spear and fern leaf
And it echoes in the depths of
The great Pike River mine
As it mourns the poignant loss of

        New Zealand’s Twenty-nine.


They were undistinguished toilers
In Man’s caverns; places strange
To us who’ve never quarried
In The Paparoa Range
Where the cryptic seams of black gold
Rise on high, and deep decline
Ever luring brave men onwards, men like

        Westland’s Twenty-nine.


Now their names will live forever
In the light of unsought fame
And they’ll join the ranks of heroes
Lost in Westland’s deadly game
They’ll meet the men of Dobson,
Brunner and the Strongman mine
And in history they’ll be known as

        The Pike River Twenty-nine.

© DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz
.