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By Clyde's bonny banks as I slowly did wander |
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Among the pit heaps as the evening grew nigh |
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I spied a young woman all dressed in black mourning |
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Weeping and wailing with many a sigh |
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I stepped up beside her and gently addressed her |
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Would it help you to talk about the cause of your pain? |
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Weeping and wailing at last she did answer |
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Johnny Murphy, kind sir, is my true lover's name. |
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Twenty one years of age, full of youth and good looking |
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To work down the mine of High Blantyre he came |
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Our wedding was fixed all the guests were invited |
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That calm summers' evening my Johnny was slain |
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The explosion was heard by the women and children |
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With pale anxious faces they ran to the mine |
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When the news was made known all the hills rang with mourning |
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Thee hundred and ten Scottish miners were slain. |
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Mothers and daughters and sweethearts and lovers |
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The Blantyre explosion you'll never forget |
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All you good people who hear my sad story |
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Remember the miners who lie at their rest. |
