The Proud Valley Page #4

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- It's suicide, I tell you. Don't be a young fool.

- Let me go!

- Get hold of him.

- Let me go!

- You fool.

- Look!

Ned, leave him to them.

- Are you all right?

- Careful.

I'm all right.

Steady.

Steady, boy.

Something for his head.

Dad.

- It's my dad.

- I'm afraid there's nothing much we can do for him.

Dad, it's me, Emlyn.

Hello, Emlyn.

I've copped out.

Bit of bad luck. That's all.

Me coppin' out like this.

Only 10 minutes to go.

It's the Eisteddfod.

Time we was there.

Em.

Tell your mam I -

Tell your mam I -

He's gone.

We would like to

thank the committee...

for postponing this Eisteddfod

so as to give us a chance to compete.

But we do not feel we can do so...

for the loss of our conductor,

my father...

and those who died with him...

is too fresh in our minds.

I didn't know Dick Parry for long...

but I lived and worked with him enough

to realize that he was a man.

Every inch ofhim.

Sometimes when we were alone

I used to sing him this song...

which we are now

going to sing for you.

dd

Deep

River

My home is

OverJordan

Deep

River

Lord

I want to cross over

Into campground

Deep

River

My home is

OverJordan

Deep

River

Lord

I want to cross over

Into campground

Oh, don't you want to go

To that gospel feast

That promised

Land

Where all

Is peace

Oh, deep

River

Lord

I want to cross over

Into

Campground

What a game.

Oh, carry on and stop grousing. Gotta be

going soon, down to the labor exchange.

Aye. And you'd better get a move on, Nick,

or you won't get back in time to sign on.

- That flaming labor exchange.

- It's a good job we've got it.

Better dole money than no money at all.

This " half a loaf's better than none" talk

makes me sick.

Nearly a year since the explosion.

And we've been no more than numbers

on the books of the labor exchange.

- Like a lot of flaming convicts.

- Keep working, and forget it.

You call this work?

Burrowing like rabbits...

day after day, just to get

enough coal to keep the kettle boiling.

- You like a cup of tea, don't you, Nick?

- Enough to drive a chap daft.

Here we are,

strutting for a few bits of slaggy coal...

whilst down Blaendy pits there's millions

of tons of best Welsh coal waiting to be worked.

What I want to know is, why can't we get to

the coal face through the sealed section?

- Because it's chock-full of gas, I expect.

- If only they'd let us have a shot at it.

- You may get your chance yet, Nick.

- Still got faith in that letter, have you?

You're daft if you think

the owners will take any notice of that.

- You and your letters.

- The last letter Emlyn sent...

was signed by the Miners' Federation,

the Chamber ofTrade and -

- Aye, aye. And Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

- We'll get an answer from London yet.

If we do, it'll be as they says in Parliament:

In the negative.

Ah, forget it, Nick.

Come on. Let's get goin'.

Come on, Dave.

Give us a lift up with this sack.

- Comin', boys?

- Coming, Dave.

Come on, boys.

On, lads.

Don't spare the horses.

Let me have another pennyworth of tea

on old account, till pension day.

Since the pits closed, nobody comes in here

with money in their hands.

- It's all old accounts.

- I know.

It's awful.

Some of the people round here, well...

you can't trust them

any further than you can see 'em.

But you know I'm as safe as a bank.

Now, go now, Phoebe.

This old account business will have to stop.

Thank you, Catrin.

But you know I'm as safe as a bank.

Safe as a bank.

Oh, you can wait a minute.

Shop!

Good day, Mrs. Owen. Let's have a packet

of Woodbines till the weather breaks.

Such cheek!

You better go before I break you!

Oh, come on. Come on.

Woodbines without the money indeed.

- Sure you wouldn't like a box of cigars?

- Damn. I didn't know you sold cigars.

Lamentations! Outside!

- Oh, but, Mrs. Owen. Now don't -

- Outside I said!

All right.

- Where's your mother?

- I'm sorry, Mr. Howells.

- Mam won't be able to pay you today.

- You tell your mother-

- Oh, but I can't, Mr. Howells.

- Why? Isn't she in?

Yes, but she's bad in bed.

- Mam, who's that man -

- Shh!

It's her head.

It's splitting in four ways.

Now you tell your mother from me that unless

she pays me something next week...

it's in the county court I'll be putting her.

- Yes, Mr. Howells.

- Where's your mother?

- She's bad in bed.

- Then I'll go up.

- But you can't -

- Oh, get out of my way.

Oh, it's you.

Come in and sit down for a minute.

Thank you.

I'd rather stand.

- Take the children upstairs, will you?

- All right, Mam. Come on.

I've come to settle this thing

once and for all.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Don't you?

Well, from now on, my Gwen is going to have

nothing more to do with that boy of yours.

Perhaps the young people themselves

will have something to say about that.

Gwen won't.

I'm not letting her wait any longer.

If the pits hadn't been closed,

they'd have been married.

Lf. Lf.

No girl of mine's going gray...

waiting for a boy on the dole

without a penny to his name.

- A lot of good-for-nothing -

- Don't you dare call my boy good-for-nothing.

Why, he's breaking his heart

because he can't get work.

Nobody's done more

to get the pits opened again.

I know. Letters to the owners.

- Well?

- All right.

Would you like me to tell you

what happened to that last letter?

Yes. What?

Emlyn's come.

I hope he gives her what for.

- Come on. Tell us.

- I'll tell you.

The owners have written to say

that your scheme is no good.

- No, not worth that.

- How do you know?

Never you mind.

I know.

Why, you're no better

than a Peeping Tom.

- Don't bother with her, Mam.

- Such cheekl

Shut up!

So we're right up against it again.

Well, Em,

we've been up against it before.

- Let's have another try.

- Try?

We're about sick and tired

of you and your trying.

- Speak for yourself.

- Listen to me, Emlyn Parry.

My girl is a qualified postal clerk...

and I had to pay for her training

in the technical college.

Me, a widow, on my feet

in that little shop...

from early morning till late every night.

And now the place is my own property,

and money in the bank I've got too.

If you think I'm fool enough

to let you drag her down...

till she's a pauper like the rest of you,

then you're very much mistaken.

That's enough, Catrin Owen.

There's the door.

I'm going.

And let me tell you this.

Before very long, me and my girl will have

cleared right out of this poverty-stricken hole.

Suppose you clear out of my house

for a start?

Go, go, before I forget myself!

Well, that's that.

- Here, Em.

- It's no use, Dave.

The people of Blaendy

are properly in the cart.

You ought to get out of this place.

Why? I pay my way.

There's my 17-bob dole money.

I do my bit on the slag heap.

I try not to eat too much.

If you had any sense, you'd go.

- Try the Darren Valley.

- No, Em.

Get to Cardiff. Find a ship.

Why are you staying?

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