5.15 a.m.
snow laying all around
a collier cycles home
from his night shift underground
past the silent pub
primary school, workingmens club
on the road from the pithead
the churchyard packed
with mining dead
then beneath the bridge
he comes to a giant car
a shroud of snow upon the roof
a mark ten jaguar
he thought the man was fast asleep
silent, still and deep
both dead and cold
shot through
with bullet holes
the one armed bandit man
came north to fill his boots
came up from cockneyland
e-type jags and flashy suits
put your money in
pull the levers
watch them spin
cash cows in all the pubs
but he preferred the new nightclubs
nineteen sixty-seven
bandit men in birdcage heaven
la dolce vita, sixty-nine
all new to people of the tyne
who knows who did what
somebody made a call
they said his hands
were in the pot
that he