Prince of Wales Colliery Disaster 
11th September 1878 (268 killed)

IN Abercarn among the mountains,
In a vale midst Gwalia’s hills,
Where gush from Nature’s fountains
The brook and all its rills.
Day dawn’d upon the great high hills
In a sheen of eastern light,
As Aurora in her chariot came
And chased away the night.

Look up, ye Colliers, going to work,
Rough men, but good and true,
‘Tis the last time you rising sun
Will light the morn for you;
Look back, thou gallant son of toil
In thy pride of youthful life;
Give one last look on thy humble home,
And kiss thy child and wife.

Oh, fated one! gaze back again
On thy cottage home once more,
Never again will they see thee return,
Or thy footstep cross its floor;
Never again will the baby laugh
In all its young delight,
(When work is done and supper waits),
And Daddy comes in sight.

Now the birds are singing merrily
O'er mountain, wood, and plain;
But their summer songs of gladness
Thou wilt never hear again.
Ye women of Abercarn, oh bid
Farewell with bated breath,
And kiss once more the ones you love,
They are going down to death.

It was just about the hour of noon
Of that wild and fateful day.
The valley all in a golden bath
Of autumn’s sunshine lay,
When a sound like crashing thunder
Came up from the under world,
And fiery flames with awful glare
Towards the heavens were hurl’d.

Those ominous sounds the echoes roused,
Which over the mountains rolled,
Then the Widows’ wail, the Orphans’ cry,
And then the tale was told;
Far, far below on the wings of flame
Fleet Death did swiftly fly,.
And men in his horrible carnage then
Had a fearful death to die.

Say who will go down to death to save ?
In a moment there and then
All eager to rescue, perhaps to die
Came a band of fearless men;
And the foremost of these gallant men
Who into the cage did jump
To descend to the flaming depths below 
Was known as "Billy the Pump."

Amongst those whom first they rescued
From the jaws of scorching flames
And borne away to his home to die
Was the form of poor Ben Games.
I saw him on that fatal morn
In health and spirits gay,
His charred form only remained at eve,
His life had passed away.

But this is only one sad item
From the game that death has play’d ;
Wide, wide is the desolation
And the havoc he has made.
Oh, sun, why dost thou shine so bright
In yon blue arched dome ?
Go hide thy face, let it be night
Of dark and dismal gloom.

And hush thy song in the woodlands gay,
Thou gay-plumed singing bird;
In thy leafy groves let nothing
But the raven’s croak be heard
For hard firm men they weep to-day,
Who have never wept before,
And mourners’ cries are maddening,
Fond hearts are rended sore.

The widow's wail old Time will hush,
Her tears’ll be wipe away, 
But the memory will never fade
Of the men who died to-day.
‘Neath thy steep green hills, Old Abercarn,
Far down in the lonely deep,
There Fathers, Husbands, Brothers lie
In their everlasting sleep.

.....

  "The hills that shake although unrent,
As if an earthquake pass’d,
The thousand shapeless things all driven
In cloud and flame toward the heaven,
By that tremendous blast."
Byron