It happened all so quickly down in there –
there in the mine – working away was I –
all of a sudden – gave me such a scare –
rocks were falling – I had no time to try
escaping – or in helping other men –
no warning was there – not a thing – when –

the tunnel caved in. All in a sprawl
others were lying about – everything broke –
the mine all dust and clutter. That is all
honestly I can remember – till I woke.
My heart then sank – I’d hoped it wasn’t true –
hoped that I’d dreamt – but true it was – and you –

the rest you’ll not believe – I dare say. Still,
what happened next I’ll try my best to tell.
I – Cubbie am I – woke – and damp and chill
it was – and pitch dark. Where the ceilings fell
was deep inside. All over I was sore,
and felt dazed like I’d never felt before.

No way out could I feel. For hours and hours
I saw nothing and heard nothing, wishing
I could just see my wife – and boys of ours –
and that instead I’d made my bread by fishing.
I groped but blindly with no candle glow,
and felt forgotten trapped so far below.

Then in the distance – faintly came a voice –
murmurs that nearer grew – bringing a hope.
A few more joined it – how I did rejoice –
that even in this darkest place I’d cope.
I cried out loudly – surely they would hear.
Alas – I heard those voices disappear.

Later behind those fallen beams and rocks –
I’m sure I heard it though my mind was blurred –
there came mysterious and ghostly knocks –
that echoed through the tunnels. These I’ve heard
some rumours of – some say they are a sign –
and often warn of a collapsing mine.

Then to my disbelief I saw a hand –
disembodied, floating through the air –
holding a candle. Finding strength to stand
I followed it. Drifting, it led me where
a small but passable crevice was. I squeezed
myself through, and my heart was somewhat eased.

Through many winding tunnels I was led –
until we reached an opening I knew.
Then saw I something – something strange ahead –
knee high – with tools – some figures – strange but true –
large noses – dressed like miners they appear –
long skinny limbs – mouths stretched from ear to ear.

Benign they seemed, then silent went their way.
I’d heard of them – the Knockers they are called,
the spirits of dead Kernow miners – they
warn of cave ins. For long I stood enthralled –
then looked up – where – relieved – my sight was caught
by shafts of light, this cheered my every thought.

They warn of rockfalls with their knocks – if left
some food like crusts and treated with respect.
Ignore or mock them and you’ll suffer theft
of tools or lunch – or other tricks expect.
So that’s what happened – now to bed is best;
however dazed I am, I need some rest.