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It's in the evening after dark |
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When the blackleg miner creeps to work, |
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With his moleskin pants and his dirty shirt, |
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There goes the blackleg miner. |
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He takes his pick and down he goes, |
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To hew the coal that lies below, |
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And there's not a woman in this town row |
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That would look at the blackleg miner. |
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Delaval is a terrible place, |
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And they rub wet clay in the blackleg's face, |
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And around the heaps they run a race |
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To catch the blackleg miner. |
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Don't you go near the Seghill mine, |
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Across the way they stretch a line |
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To catch the throat and break the spine |
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Of the dirty blackleg miner. |
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Then they grab his duds and his pick as well, |
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And they throw him down the pits of hell. |
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O down you go and fare you well, |
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You dirty blackleg miner. |
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So join the union while you may, |
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And don't wait 'til your daying day, |
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For that's not so far away. |
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You dirty blackleg miner. |
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And it's in the evening after dark |
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When the blackleg miner creeps to work, |
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With his moleskin pants and his dirty shirt, |
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There goes the blackleg miner. |
