| I am a girl of constant sorrow,
|
| I’ve seen trouble all my days.
|
| I bid farewell to old Kentucky,
|
| The state where I was born and raised.
|
| My mother, how I hated to leave her,
|
| Mother dear who now is dead.
|
| But I had to go and leave her
|
| So my children could have bread.
|
| Perhaps, dear friends, you are wonderin'
|
| What the miners eat and wear.
|
| This question I will try to answer,
|
| For I’m sure that it is fair.
|
| For breakfast we had bulldog gravy,
|
| For supper we had beans and bread.
|
| The miners don’t have any dinner,
|
| And a tick of straw they call a bed.
|
| Well, we call this hell on earth, friends,
|
| I must tell you all goodbye.
|
| Oh, I know you all are hungry,
|
| Oh, my darlin' friends, don’t cry. |