Why dont the wheels go round mam?
Why dont the wheels go round?
Cause there comes a time when a man must stand
And take his destiny in his own two hands
And with all the courage that he commands
Say "Dont let the wheels go round".
Why is the table bare, mam?
Why is the table bare?
Cause the strikes been long, and its made us poor
Though theyve used the coppers, and bent the law
Its the nations future were fighting for,
Thats why the tables bare.
Why does me dad hate scabs, mam?
Why does me dad hate scabs?
Cause a scabs a blackleg, a scabs a swine
Who has no respect for the picket line
And he aint no brother of yours, or mine,
Thats why your dad hates scabs.
Doesnt the coal board care, mam?
Doesnt the coal board care?
They have no compassion for you and I
Let our children starve, and the pickets die
Theres a sight more chance that youll see pigs fly
Than youll see the coal board care.
Why dont the wheels go round, mam?
Why dont the wheels go round?
Our fathers fought, and their fathers too
For an industry that well leave to you
Just remember lad, its not them, but you
That makes Britains wheels go round.
May 1984
This was the first poem I wrote about the strike. It has been put to music, and I was very touched when I heard it sung by a group called Coalition at the GLC Festival in Battersea Park last Summer.