He's had more hard luck than most men could stand.
The mines was his first love, but never his friend.
He's lived a hard life, and hard he'll die.
Black lung's done got him, his time is nigh.
Black lung, black lung, you're just biding your time.
Soon all this suffering I'll leave behind.
But I can't help but wonder what God had in mind
to send such a devil to claim this soul of mine.
He went to the boss man, but he closed the door.
Well, it seems you're not wanted when you're sick and you're poor.
You're not even covered in their medical plans.
And your life depends on the favors of man.
Down in the poorhouse on starvation's plan
where pride is a stranger and doomed is a man.
His soul full of coal dust till his body's decayed
and every one but black lung's done turned him away.
Black lung, black lung, oh, your hands I see cold.
As you reach for my life and you torture my soul,
cold as that water hole down in that dark cave
where I spent my life's blood digging my own grave.
Down at the graveyard the boss man came
with his little bunch of flowers.
Dear God, what a shame.
Take back those flowers.
Don't you sing those sad songs.
The die has been cast now.
A good man is gone.