There is a place high up on ground
It’s workings can be seen from all around
Toil, sweat, graft and tears
Dry throats soothed by post-work beers
Iron, Steel, Ore and Heat
Their sturdy product could not be beat
Many a bridge and Blackpool Tower
Owed their debt to Consett’s power
Men and women side by side
Working people full of pride
Consett steel- a thing you could trust
Remember the cloud of the old red dust ?
The smelters, the chimneys, the furnaces too
Prosperity, security as industry grew
People of substance,willing and able
Families needed food on their tables
Along came a woman who’d cause so much pain
The irony was she had IRON in her name
No second thought for what was to come
She ended an era – the deal was done
Years of industry resigned to the past
1980 proved to be last
1000s of people thrown to the dole
Dispair and depression soon took its toll
Though modern resurgence has hidden the pain
The iron image will always remain
Thirty five years later,I’ll say how we feel

WE ARE FROM CONSETT, WE USED TO MAKE STEEL !

A Big thank you to Barrie Davison for this fantastic poem.

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