Hum of shaft-wheel, whirr and clamour
Of steel hammers overbeat, din down
Water-hag's slander.Greasy Rhondda
River throws about the boulders
Veils of scum to mark the ancient
Degraded union of stone and water.
Unwashed colliers by the river
Gamble for luck the pavements hide.
Kids float tins down dirty rapids.
Coal-dust rings the scruffy willows.
Circe is a drab.
She gives men what they know.
Daily to her pitch-black shaft
Her whirring wheels suck husbands out of sleep.
She for her profit takes their hands and eyes.
But the fat flabby-breasted wives
Have grown accustomed to her ways.
They scrub, make tea, peel the potatoes
Without counting the days.