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In all its glory

By Black Country Bugle  |  Posted: April 24, 2014

By Conna Ward

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Black Country born and bred,

No blue sky like sea,

Long gone red and grey,

Noxious fumes,

Replaced by green grass growing.

Tall chimneys proud,

Standing like soldiers on guard,

Smoke spurting,

Glowing cinders left.

Pit ponies pulling carts,

Into the thick,

Eyes thick with dust,

Straining hearts.

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