| Deep in the mountain of Harlan County
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| Employed by the Cumberland coal company
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| The pay is short, the days are long
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| But our labor union laws are coming on strong
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| So I drink this whiskey for my throat
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| Wear my hard hat and weathered coat
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| Early every morning I stand in line
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| Waiting to work these Kentucky coal mines
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| We enter the shaft around five thirty
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| With two dozen hands, cold, callused and dirty
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| We’ll dig through a million tons of rock and clay
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| And we’ll still be digging at the end of the day
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| Down on our knees we confess our sins
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| And pray that the roof above don’t cave in So bless our hearts and save or souls
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| And the air we breathe down in the devil’s hole
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| Just last week when the the ceiling fell
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| The explosion trapped us in the depths of hell
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| The weight of the earth took poor Tucker’s life
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| Leaving behind a hungry baby and wife
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| We dug out with our shovels and picks
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| But soon enough the black lung disease will make us sick
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| So bless our hearts and save or souls
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| And the air we breathe down in the devil’s hole
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| I work deep in the mountains of eastern Kentucky
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| I know if I leave Harlan alive I’ll be more than lucky
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| Wish I could go to Texas and plant some cottonseed
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| But moving takes money and I’ve got three mouths to feed
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| So I drink this whiskey for my throat
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| Wear my hard hat and weathered coat
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| Early every morning I stand in line
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| Waiting to work another Kentucky coal mine |