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When I was a curly headed baby |
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My daddy sat me down on his knee |
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He said, "son, go to school and get your letters, |
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Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me." |
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I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow |
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The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door |
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But now they stand in a rusty row all empty |
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Because the l & n don't stop here anymore |
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I used to think my daddy was a black man |
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With script enough to buy the company store |
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But now he goes to town with empty pockets |
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And his face is white as a February snow |
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I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow |
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The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door |
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But now they stand in a rusty row all empty |
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Because the l & n don't stop here anymore |
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I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust |
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I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar |
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Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money |
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And those green backs would fill my pockets once more |
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I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow |
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The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door |
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But now they stand in a rusty row all empty |
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Because the l & n don't stop here anymore |
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Last night I dreamed I went down to the office |
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To get my pay like a had done before |
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But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door |
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And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor |
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I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow |
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The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door |
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But now they stand in a rusty row all empty |
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Because the l & n don't stop here anymore |
