The Queen has sent A Letter;
or, The Hartley Calamity.

The falling of the large beam in Hartley Colliery, on the 16th January 1862 closed up the shaft, in consequence of which 204 men and boys, lost their lives.

Tune- "No Irish need Apply."

Oh! bless the Queen of England, who sympathy doth show,
Toward our stricken widows amid their grief and woe;
Old England never had her like, nor never will again,
Then bless good Queen Victoria, ye loyal-hearted men.
She sent a letter stating- "I share your sorrows here,"
To soothe the aching hearts of all and dry the widow's tear.

Above two hundred miners are numbered with the dead,
Whose wives and children ne'er shall want their bit of daily bread;
And while death's shadow overhangs the miner's cot with gloom,
Let us calm the widow's heaving breast for those laid in the tomb;
And ye that round your glowing fires life's comforts daily share,
Think of the helpless orphans and widows in despair.

We have heros from the Redan and Inkerman as well,
Whose deeds of daring on the field a nation's thanks can tell;
But did they face the deadly stythe, where scarce a single breath'
Held life to face eternity to rescue life or death!
Show me the page in history where deeds heroic shine
More bright than our Northumbrian men, the heroes of the mine.

The collier's welfare, as he toils, more interest might command
Among the weathy owners and rulers of the land.
Are they like beasts of burthen, as Roebuck' once did rave,
Will government in future strive the collier's life to save?
Why should the worn-out collier amid his abject gloom
Eke out the life his Maker spared to share the pauper's doom?

God speed the hardy collier, and Coulson's gallant band,
Who braved the perils of the shaft with willing heart and hand;
And ye that add to store the hive and feed the fatherless,
May He that watches o'er all things your earthly prospects bless.
The weeping and wailing of widows let us end,
And with our Queen let all men see we are the widow's friend.

The sailor on the stormy sea life's perils often share,
Our soldiers 'mid the battle's strife what man can do they dare;
Yet both have got a chance for life, but ah! the miner's doom,
'Twas sad to sleep the sleep of death closed in the living tomb.
Then man to man, with heart and hand, let us still help each other,
With generous impulse to relieve a sister or a brother.

Oh! gather round, ye generous band whose bounty caused a smile
To 'llume the face of dark despair throughout old England's isle.
Ye have ta'en the gloom from sorrow where rays of love will fall
On the widow and the fatherless, who pray"God bless you all!"
For the Queen has sent a letter, tho' she mourns a husb and dear,
To soothe the aching hearts of all and dry the widow's tear.

-Corvan, 1862.