| My daddy was a miner, said there was nothing finer
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| Than an Irish man who worked an honest day
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| From Steamboat Row, in rain or shine, he’d make his way down to the mine
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| Along the dusty road he’d travel
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| Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
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| Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row
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| He used to tell about the time he got hurt down in the mine
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| He said he’d never go back down again
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| But in his heart he knew he would, he did the only thing he could
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| Kept on walkin' down that road
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| Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
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| Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row
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| But when he took to drinkin' we knew that he was thinkin'
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| That his days were quickly coming to an end
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| He’d only speak of Steamboat Row, he said someday we ought to go
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| And walk along that dusty road
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| Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
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| Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row |