There is no Traitor in this House

A sign in a window, in Bethesda,
“There is no traitor in this house”,
A community split along painful fractures, strikers and traitors.

It all began, as these things do,
With the greedy bosses,
They break the workers, with iron fist,
And then cry over losses.

The management of the quarry refused,
To collect the workers trade union dues,
A further measure to break the workers,
Who had been ground to dust.
For the workers a fight was on,
This was but a must.

Of course the workers fought this,
And felt the long arm of the law,
Several workers were arrested,
And then they said ‘no more!’

The bosses handed an ultimatum,
Go back to work or leave,
The workers decided on a strike,
But there was no reprieve.

The bosses were insidious,
And offered a small pay rise,
400 workers took the bait,
And listened to the bosses lies.

The community was broken,
Traitors were ostracized,
The strike was long and arduous, the remaining strikers furious,
That unity should die.

The starvation was terrible,
Strikers sought work further south,
But the struggles could not be suppressed,
People heard by word of mouth.

The strikers received vast support,
From all across the nation,
With Welsh choirs going on tour,
To relay the information.

Funds came in from afar,
The workers helped each other,
Sympathy rolled on the tongues of men,
In support of their Welsh brothers.

The strike ended within three years,
The bosses were victorious,
But the solidarity between the workers,
Can be seen as something glorious.

The workers should stand together,
Even in this day,
Because in our numbers we are strong,
Voices raised in concert and in song, and as the years do go along,
Where nothing much has changed,
But we as workers cannot be wrong,
And will not be slaves.

By Helen Astin-Hardman