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Well, I was born a coal miner's daughter |
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In a cabin on a hill in Butcher Holler |
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We were poor, but we had love |
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That's the one thing that Daddy made sure of |
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He shoveled coal to make a poor man's dollar. |
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My Daddy worked all night in the Vanleer coal mine |
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All day long in the field a-hoin' corn |
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Mommy rocked the babies at night |
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And read the Bible by the coal-oil light |
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And ever'thing would start all over come break of morn'. |
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Daddy loved and raised eight kids on a miner's pay |
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Mommy scrubbed our clothes on a washboard ever' day |
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Why, I've seen her fingers bleed |
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To complain there was no need |
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She'd smile in Mommy's understanding way. |
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In the summertime we didn't have shoes to wear |
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But in the wintertime we'd all get a brand new pair |
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From a mail order catalog |
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Money made from sellin' a hog |
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Daddy always managed to get the money somewhere. |
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Yeah, I'm proud to be a coal miner's daughter |
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I remember well - the well where I drew water |
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The work we done was hard |
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At night we'd sleep 'cause we worked hard |
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I never thought of ever leaving Butcher Holler. |
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Well, a lot of things have changed since way back then |
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And it's so good to be back home again |
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Not much left but the floor |
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Nothing lives here anymore |
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Except the mem'ries of a coal miner's daughter. |