Les Corons
Pierre Bachelet
The Mining Towns
Up north, it was the mining towns
The land was coal
The sky was the horizon
The men were deep miners
Our windows faced similar windows
And the rain wet my school bag
But my father, coming home, had eyes so blue
That I thought I saw the blue sky
I studied my lessons, cheek against his arm
I believe he was proud of me
He was as generous as those from the region
And I owe him what I am
Up north, it was the mining towns
The land was coal
The sky was the horizon
The men were deep miners
And it was my childhood, and it was happy
In the steam of the washers
And I had slag heaps instead of mountains
From the top, I saw the countryside
My father was a black face like his parents were
My mother had white hair
They were from the pit, as one is from a country
Thanks to them, I know who I am
Up north, it was the mining towns
The land was coal
The sky was the horizon
The men were deep miners
At the town hall on the day of the fair
A photo of Jean Jaurès
And each glass of wine was a pink diamond
Set against a backdrop of silicosis
They talked about '36 and the firedamp explosions
About accidents in the depths of the pit
They loved their job as one loves a country
It's with them that I understood
Up north, it was the mining towns
The land was coal
The sky was the horizon
The men were deep miners
The sky was the horizon
The men were deep miners
