Five o'clock and all is well, miners are on their way to hell. Cross the bridge oer the line, half past five they're in on time. Into the mine a change of clothes, caplamp cage and down she goes. "Chorus" And into hell they go that day, to sweat and toil and earn their pay. To dream about a brighter day. When death wont be the price they pay. There are a few more verses to this Ray I wrote this a few years ago, about Hatfield Main and the bridge over the railway lines, between Dunscroft and Stainforth.I spent my early days in a house under the bridge on Southend and went to sleep with the sound engines shunting in the yard behind the houses, and woke with the hooters calling the men into work. In the summer the men would cross the bridge chatting and whistling. And in the winter you would just hear the sound of their feat crunching on the ice or snow. Thoughts of long ago I know, but you can have it if it's any good to you. Cheers Oombanjo. Oh, I did my training at Bentley and served my time at Hatfield Main.