Lyrics:

It stands so proud, the wheel so still
A ghostlike figure on the hill
It seems so strange there is no sound
Now there are no men underground
What will become of this pit-yard
Where men once trampled, faces hard
Tired and weary, their shift done
Never having seen the sun
Will it become a sacred ground
Foreign tourists gazing round?
Asking if there once worked here
Way beneath the pit-head gear
Empty trucks once filled with coal
Lined up like men on the dole
Will they ever he used again
Or left for scrap just like the men?
There'll always be a happy hour
For those with money, jobs and power
They'll never realise the hurt
They cause to men they treat like dirt.Is there hope for the future?
Say the brown bells of Merthyr.
Who made the mine owners?
Say the black bells of Rhondda.
And who killed the miners?
Say the grim bells of Blaina.

They will plunder willy-nilly,
Say the bells of Caerphilly.
They have fangs, they have teeth,
Shout the loud bells of Neath.
Even God is weary,
Say the moist bells of Swansea.
What will you give me?
Say the sad bells of Rhymney.

Throw the vandals in court,
Shout the loud bells of Newport.
All would be well if,
Say the green bells of Cardiff.
Why so worried, sisters, why?
Say the silver bells of Wye.
What will you give me?
Say the sad bells of Rhymney.

Oh what can you give me?
Say the sad bells of Rhymney.
Is there hope for the future?
Say the brown bells of Merthyr.
Who made the mine owners?
Say the black bells of Rhondda.
And who killed the miners?
Say the grim bells of Blaina.

Who killed the miners?
Who killed the miners?
Who killed the miners?
Who killed the miners?