| In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky
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| That’s the place where I trace my bloodline
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| And it’s there I read on a hillside gravestone
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| You will never leave Harlan alive
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| Oh, my granddad’s dad walked down
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| Katahrins Mountain
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| And he asked Tillie Helton to be his bride
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| Said, won’t you walk with me out of the mouth
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| Of this holler
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| Or we’ll never leave Harlan alive
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| Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning
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| And the sun goes down about three in the day
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| And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you’re drinking
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| And you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away
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| No one ever knew there was coal in them mountains
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| 'Til a man from the Northeast arrived
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| Waving hundred dollar bills he said I’ll pay ya for your minerals
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| But he never left Harlan alive
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| Granny sold out cheap and they moved out west
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| Of Pineville
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| To a farm where big Richland River winds
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| I bet they danced them a jig, laughed and sang a new song
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| Who said we’d never leave Harlan alive
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| But the times got hard and tobacco wasn’t selling
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| And ole granddad knew what he’d do to survive
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| He went and dug for Harlan coal
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| And sent the money back to granny
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| But he never left Harlan alive
|
| Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning
|
| And the sun goes down about three in the day
|
| And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you’re drinking
|
| And you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away
|
| Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning
|
| And the sun goes down about three in the day
|
| And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you’re drinking
|
| And you spend your life digging coal from the bottom of your grave
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| In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky
|
| That’s the place where I trace my bloodline
|
| And it’s there I read on a hillside gravestone
|
| You will never leave Harlan alive |