When I was a curly headed baby, my daddy sat me down on his knee. He said, "Go to school and learn your letters, don't you be a dirty coal miner like me."
I was born and raised in the mouth of a Hazard Hollar, Coal cars rumbled past my door. Now they're standin' in a rusty row all empties, and the L & N don't stop here anymore.
I used to think my daddy was a black man, with script enough to buy the company store. Now he goes town with empty pockets, and his face is white as a February snow.
Well I'd never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust, Never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar. Oh God, I wish the grass would turn to money, and those greenbacks fill my pockets up once more.
Last night I dreamed I went down to the coal yard, to draw my pay like I'd done before. Them kudzu vines are covering all the windows, there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor.