camborne card

A tradition carried on amongst Cornish miners is to fasten a large gorse bush at the very top of the hoist. The gorse must be in flower and it is said to bring luck to the mine for the following twelve months. Another tradition was to hold a carol service underground and I will never forget the day I stood with fellow workers in the pump room down Crofty and sang "Hark the glad sound" to the tune by Thomas Merritt.

CHRISTMAS IN CAMBORNE

By George Pritchard

Cross Street is gay. The chip shop's crowded.
Crowned with a blue electric star
The gift tree by the fountain shimmers,
Superbly tall if angular.
In Trelowarren Street the lights do dazzle
The shops are having a mini boom.
From the church tower the bells are ringing,
Incessant, through the afternoon.

Early are the windows lighted
Tempting shoppers who come inside.

Children's noses pressed to windows

Trying to see what mother buys.

Grandpa's had enough of shopping

Goes and finds a place to rest
Lifts a glass in celebration
He says this Christmas will be the best.

Whilst deep below ground at South Crofty
A miners chorus begin to sing.
"Hark the glad sound" a tune by Merritt,
Throughout the levels, they let it ring.

And as they sing it in the pump room
Others come from out the ends
No need for cornets or euphoniums,
Their voice alone the message sends.

This band of brothers joining together,

To tell the tale of a baby boy.
So even in the darkest tunnel

They spread the message of Christmas joy

Much later when their 'core' is ended

With friends they'll gather in the square

Their wives and children all together

Singing the rousing Carolare.

Breathless, with boxes in a jumble
The taxi drivers come and go.
Madam Chairman pulls the handle
Lights up the tree, oh, what a show

And little children looking heavenward
Cluster mittened in the Square
They talk of Santa, half affrighted,
Waiting in the cold night air.

Now the town band strikes up the anthem

Troon Choir their music bring

Come and join our celebration

Lift your voice and with us sing.

"Hark, the glad sound! the Savior comes,
The Savior promised long;
Let every heart prepare a throne,
And every voice a song."

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1. Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes,
The Saviour promised long;
Let every heart prepare a throne,
And every voice a song.

2. On Him the Spirit, largely poured,
Exerts His sacred fire;
Wisdom and might, and zeal and love,
His holy breast inspire.

3. He comes, the prisoners to release,
In Satan’s bondage held;
The gates of brass before Him burst,
The iron fetters yield.

4. He comes, from thickest films of vice
To clear the mental ray,
And on the eyes oppressed with night
To pour celestial day.

5. He comes, the broken heart to bind,
The bleeding soul to cure;
And with the treasures of His grace
To bless the humble poor.

6. His silver trumpets publish loud
The jub’lee of the Lord
Our debts are all remitted now
Our heritage restored.

7. Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace,
Thy welcome shall proclaim;
And heav’n’s eternal arches ring
With Thy belovèd Name.