| 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 |