GOD bless the mothers of those colliers dead, Who ventured life beneath the ground; Grief-trembling who to pit bank sped, After that sad explosive sound.   How sad that morn heaven s sighed, And raindrops fell mid shriek and tears; How sad the homes of those who died, Throbbed each heart with grief and fear.   Who feels not for a collier s life, Dangers which he must undergo; Who, when joyous moments rife, Must meet so sad a fatal blow.   January eighteenth, eighteen hundred & eighty-nine, Will be remembered long and well; Thousands in country, town, and mine, Of this catastrophe will tell.   Scene on the pit-bank, in the street, Would rend a heart of hardened stone; Even stranger s pulse did yearning beat, With natural feelings, nature s own.   Remember Haslam who so brave, Accomplished a grand, noble deed; Risking his life, young Grattan to save, God keep him free from future need.   May God support them in this trying hour, Submissive they to His will; Give them Thy succour, Thy support, and power, Oh may each heart beat calm and still.   Bless Sidebotham s noble charity; Doctors, and all who lent their aid; All donors, who without disparity, Who for this object nobly paid.   Thanks to our Captain and his men, For kindly help and energy, And to our knights of ink and pen, And men of sound theology.   May this misfortune be Hyde's last, For generations yet to come; Trust Him for future, well as past, Till landed safe on yond bright home.