Tin Mining at Down Tor Dartmoor - Maurice Miner
Posted: Wed Mar 07, 2012 9:37 pm
Tin Mining at Down Tor Dartmoor
On the east side of Burrator reservoir, an old track leads up from the lake onto the moor. The track, rugged and rocky, passes Norsworthy Plantation on its right hand side and Down Tor to the right. As the track rises, the surrounding area becomes quite bleak, but with a beauty of its own.
Hut circles can be found to the north of Down Tor, and a couple of areas show the evidence of mining. Tin was once mined here.
It can only now be imagined, how tough life must have been, for those who worked the mines. To stand and listen in silence. Is that the voices of miners that echo in the wind.
Maurice Miner
It’s hot down here, in this hole,
As I dig the ore, that hides some tin.
My mates, they laugh, and call me mole,
But hey, I take it on the chin.
I came from Cornwall, to the Devon side,
It be good work, I said to me.
A shilling or two, will be my guide,
For a pastie and pint, ‘appy I be.
Digging and smelting, it surely is ‘ard,
One place to t’other, for many an ‘our.
Each day it pass, they frank me card,
What it is to ‘ave some power!
Life may be short, who knows? Not I.
And I agree, life could be finer.
On my stone, they may spy,
Here lies the old sod, Maurice miner.
© Ray Steed 2012
On the east side of Burrator reservoir, an old track leads up from the lake onto the moor. The track, rugged and rocky, passes Norsworthy Plantation on its right hand side and Down Tor to the right. As the track rises, the surrounding area becomes quite bleak, but with a beauty of its own.
Hut circles can be found to the north of Down Tor, and a couple of areas show the evidence of mining. Tin was once mined here.
It can only now be imagined, how tough life must have been, for those who worked the mines. To stand and listen in silence. Is that the voices of miners that echo in the wind.
Maurice Miner
It’s hot down here, in this hole,
As I dig the ore, that hides some tin.
My mates, they laugh, and call me mole,
But hey, I take it on the chin.
I came from Cornwall, to the Devon side,
It be good work, I said to me.
A shilling or two, will be my guide,
For a pastie and pint, ‘appy I be.
Digging and smelting, it surely is ‘ard,
One place to t’other, for many an ‘our.
Each day it pass, they frank me card,
What it is to ‘ave some power!
Life may be short, who knows? Not I.
And I agree, life could be finer.
On my stone, they may spy,
Here lies the old sod, Maurice miner.
© Ray Steed 2012