Here in Harlan County, the choices are few
To keep the food on the table and the babies in shoes
You can grow marijuana way back in the pines Or work for the man down in the mines
You never forget your first day in the hole There's a pit in your stomach and your mouth's
full of coal There's no turning back once you make up your mind
As the cart rattles on down in the mine
Way down in the mines, your tears turn to mud And you can't catch your breath for the dust in your lungs
And old in hillbilly gold, where the sun never shines
Twelve hours a day, you're digging your grave Way down in the mines
Well the old timers talk, but you just don't believe It can all go to hell at two thousand feet
Life sways in the balance of nature and time And fate has no mercy down in the mines
The news spread like fire and burned through those hills
Hopes were held high, but five men got killed On the wings of canaries, their souls surely fly
While their bones spend eternity down in the mines
Way down in the mines, your tears turn to mud And you can't catch your breath for the dust in your lungs
And old in hillbilly gold, where the sun never shines
Twelve hours a day, you're digging your grave Way down in the mines
So take a flask from your cribcage and a pole of moonshine
And say a prayer for them boys down in the mines
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