Trousered Women (1842)

[FranktheFrank]

Reports of trousered women and girls working underground in mines. The
greatest scandal was not the brutal work, which damaged women’s health, but
revelations that they worked topless alongside naked men . . .
Morning Chronicle May 1842


He cut his way through the three feet six seam following its undulations down through
the years. Seven tons per shift, the owners call. He rarely met his bonus. He worked
with candle set in cap. Scoring the undercut six feet long, wedge the top and collapse

the wall. His mate brakes up the coal, loads into the truck. The weigher measures by
mensuration, the haulier draws away the cart passing the women at level two, their
breasts shining with sweat as they pull carts by straddling the chains displaying their

cunnies through the slit in their breeches. His shift over he cadges a lift on the carts
along the five mile haul to the lift cage and ascends up to the light, to heaven, to
bird's song and clean pure air that cooled his lungs. He walked to the pub to consume

two pints of bitter then makes his way back to wife and home. He soaks in a zinc bath
in front of a coal fire attended by his wife and daughter. He allows them to wash the
dirt off his back, never mind the superstition of leaving one part unwashed. One day,

Sunday, devoted to worship, reading the Bible and Chapel. He had a day off once, he
had injured his thumb and took time off at the risk of losing his job. But Dai, his
fireman, said it was allowable bearing in mind his record. They caught a train to

Newport and visited the great covered market there. He remembered sitting at a café
and eating faggots with mash and peas. They drank small cups of coffee and he
wondered that people could dine so well every day in that great city. He often thought

about that day as he worked the seam, endless it seemed, but it brought him life and
riches and kept him out of the cold rain that swept the valley in winter, out of the
howling wind that killed so many on the land. His own Da dying at forty six years, his

Mam two years later. On the odd occasion he allowed his thoughts to wonder at the
beauty of the women on level two and the perfection of their bodies glistening in the
faint flickering light. It was, he supposed, a sin, but then God had made them that
soft lovely way had He not.

He had fifteen years to go, if the dust didn't take him. They saved for that day to avoid
the workhouse. Their wealth was in the children and the children’s children, that was
their inheritance, to die in the arms of ones family. Sometimes when Dafydd was at the

end of the seam he would have a little weep, he had nightmares of the dark, alone,
entombed. Megan comforted him, understanding his despair. Ashamed to be so weak he
hid his fear and the tremors, ashamed of thinking too much of the women, but glad too

that they gave him joy. He wished in a way he could confess to a priest, was it a
weakness that they confessed not to their pastors. Then he would pray and Ieuan who
thought all religion a sin would say, Come on mun, don’t dwell on this misery, we’ll
drink three pints tonight.

And Dafydd, who believed all good things came from God, thanked Him for his mate Ieuan.

[Michael (MV)]

Hi Frank,

I'll workshop as time permits.

I see you have a copy of the poem over at Palaver, but let's workshop here in the appropriate thread where the poem first appears in the workshop forum.

When you have revised/edited, then post the poem over at Palaver, indicating that it is the edition that you would like forwarded to the IBPC finals. Thanks.




In that 1st stanza, line 1:

Could be my lack of knowledge about the mines, I'm not confident that I'm reading the measurements correctly.


re "He cut his way through the three foot six seam following its undulations down through"

^^ as in 3' 6'' (i.e. 3 feet 6 inches) ?


re "Seven ton per shift the owners call."

^^ would that be tons? Seven tons per shift the owners call.


re "Scoring the undercut six foot long,"

^^ would that be: Scoring the undercut six feet long,

or maybe: Scoring the six foot long undercut,

^^ and if so, then maybe: Scoring the six foot undercut,

^^ and maybe even: Scoring the six feet of undercut,



Perhaps the historic reference can be abbreviated to about half - briefer


Workshop applied in the stanzas below --

More immediate to make the main tense present

grammar - verb tense - word choices - etc



He cuts his way through the three foot six seam following its undulations down through
the years. Seven ton per shift the owners call. He rarely meets his bonus. He labors
with candle in cap, scoring the undercut six foot long, wedging the top, then collapsing

the wall. His mate breaks up the coal, loads it onto the truck. The weigher measures by
mensuration, the haulier draws away the cart passing the women at level two, their
breasts shining with sweat as they pull carts by straddling the chains, their cunnies

seen through the slit in their breeches. Shift over - he cadges a lift on the carts
along the five mile haul to the lift cage, ascending to the light, to the bird's song
in clean air that cools his lungs. He walks to the pub to consume two pints

of bitter before heading back home. Attended by his wife and daughter,
he soaks in a zinc bath in front of a coal fire He allows them to wash the
dirt off his back, and never mind that superstition of leaving one part unwashed.

Sundays: devoted to worship, reading the Bible, and Chapel.
He once injured his thumb and took time off, at the risk of losing his job.
But Dai, his fireman, allowed it, considering his record. They caught a train

to Newport and visited the great covered market. When he remembers them sitting
at a café, eating faggots with mash and peas, followed by small cups of coffee,
he wonders how people can dine so well every day. He often recalls

that day as he works the seam - endlessly - but it brings home livlihood
and keeps his family out of the cold rain that sweeps the valley in winter, out of the
howling wind that killed so many on the land. His own Da died at 46; his mam,

two years later. Occasionally, he allows his thoughts to linger at the
beauty of the women on level two and the perfection of their figures glistening in the
faint flickering light. It is, he supposes, a sin, but God creates women
that soft lovely way, does He not.


He has fifteen years to go, if the dust doesn't take him. They're saving for that day to avoid
the workhouse. Wealth is in the children and the children’s children, that's their
inheritance, to die in the arms of family. Sometimes when Dafydd is at the

end of the seam, he weeps; he suffers nightmares of the dark, alone,
entombed. Megan comforts him, understanding his despair. Ashamed of being seen weak he
hides his fear and the tremors; and torn between dreaming too much of the women, yet pleased

by the joy they give him. He wishes in a way he could confess to a priest; is it a taboo
not to be confessed to pastors. Thus he seeks resolve in prayer, until Ieuan, who
regards all religion as dogma, calls, "Come on mun, don’t dwell on that misery.

We’ll drink three pints tonight." And Dafydd,
who believes all good things cmme from God,
thanks Him for his mate Ieuan as a smile returns to his face.

[FranktheFrank]

Thanks Michael, I am sorry for the work I have caused you. Yes you are right,but I slipped into the vernacular, its sloppy English the way we speak here. We say foot when we mean feet and ton when we mean tons. The reader might not know that.

I will cut down the epigraph by hald, is that what yu wanted?

Thanks again.

[Michael (MV)]

 
Hi Frank,

" I will cut down the epigraph by hald, is that what yu wanted?"

^^ I suggest that b/c I believe that is needed - less before beginning the long poem.


Frank, ASAP please post the poem in the thread at Palaver as you would like it forwarded to the IBPC finals:

              Upcoming June IBPC 2016: : viewtopic.php?f=3&t=6273



Thanks, Frank



Michael (MV)

Thanks Michael, I am sorry for the work I have caused you. Yes you are right,but I slipped into the vernacular, its sloppy English the way we speak here. We say foot when we mean feet and ton when we mean tons. The reader might not know that.

I will cut down the epigraph by hald, is that what yu wanted?

Thanks again.