| In the year of '98
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| The Julian mine became our grave
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| Forty of us couldn’t come upstairs
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| Of the dirty black leg miners
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| Forty wives and children were
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| Left alone in these hard years
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| We tried to help them how we could
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| We’re dirty black leg miners
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| Two months later came to us
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| Bob McLean to tell 'bout the trust
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| Told us we should fight for the rights
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| Of the dirty black leg miners
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| It was the first time we’ve heard
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| How to found a union here
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| Next day we began the strike
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| For the dirty black leg miners
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| We were striking 14 weeks
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| Before police with guns showed up
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| 112 were killed by them
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| Of the dirty black leg miners
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| They were hanging Bob McLean
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| And we started work again
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| This strike was down but we are strong
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| We’re dirty black leg miners
|
| In the year of '98
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| The mining trust became our fate
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| The weight of work now breaks the backs
|
| Of the dirty black leg miners
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| In the future hopefully
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| Our children all will tell the tale
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| How Bob McLean laid down his life
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| For the dirty black leg miners |