Glo they call it
Sheened like a beetle's back
High the price
Lives lost or marred
White fingers, clotted lungs
Senghenydd, Gresford, Aberfan
Steam and smoke
Fuel to power an empire
Shovelled into fireboxes and hearths
The wealth it brought
Turned to ash
The land scarred
Buildings silent
On the ridge
Grey turbines turn
The valley sleeps
Its labour done
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