Eating Humble Pie
I’m proud to be a pie-eater
A real northern Lancashire lass.
Cotton, coal and revolution
Ingredients of Wigan’s industrial past.
My great granddad was a miner
Going deep below the ground.
Black gold filling up his lungs
Cancer claimed his life, they found.
My granddad joined the RAF,
Swapped black dust for vast blue skies,
He got his Kings coin as reward,
Death due to pneumonia no surprise.
My grandma was a mill girl
Working mother and a wife.
Machinery took her hearing,
Lung cancer claimed her life.
My dad worked in a factory
Exporting toxic products world-wide.
I hope it not a shock to you that
Asbestos cancer they couldn’t hide.
I’m proud to be a pie-eater,
As such I’ve paid the price,
The best bit of the pie’s the centre,
It has all the taste, the spice.
But it’s the plain pastry casing,
That makes the whole taste fine,
Solid, supporting, working hard,
Allowing the centre to shine.
