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Below is the poem entitled DeFasco which was written by poet Thomas Plue. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Hamilton, Ontario,
Is a steel making town.
You can hardly tell it, 
When the sun goes down.

The slagpiles glow as the big furnace throws,
Another batch of ore.
Big ingots sit on the railway cars,
Behind the big steel doors.

They call this place DeFasco
One of the largest in the land.
It has dirty little secrets,
Buried in the sand.

Something happened one autumn night.
I'd heard the older men tell.
The shift boss heard someone screaming.
It came from the bowels of hell.

A father and son were working,
Breaking slag from a big ladles spout.
The young man couldn't get out of the way.
When the molten metal poured out.

The molten metal mixed with the mud,
To make a sticky muck.
By the time the father turned around.
He saw his son was stuck.

The boys workboots were on fire.
As he was buried to his knees.
Even his asbestos clothing ignited.
He begged to his father,"Please,"

"Put me out of my misery,
I know my days are done."
His father pushed him under the slag.
He killed his only son.

They found the old man later that night,
Running circles in the rain.
They say he never spoke another word.
They say he'd gone insane.

Sometimes during my coffee break,
I'll sit and I'll think a while.
I often find myself wondering.
Just what's under that pile.

They call the place DeFasco.
One of the largest in the land.
It has dirty little secrets,
Buried in the sand.

Note; I worked at the DeFasco Steel mill in the early nineties, and was told this story.

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  1. Date: 12/10/2009 9:34:00 AM
    Really enjoyed reading this. It reminds of the old mining stories where I grew up In West Virginia (US). Thanks for the tall glass of nostalgia.