Down in a Coal Mine


H. J. Wehman, Song Publisher, 50 Chatham St., N. Y.

Down in a Coal Mine

I am a jovial collier lad,
And blithe as blithe can be,
For let the times to be good or bad
They’re all the same to me;
‘Tis little of the world I know
And care less for its ways,
For where the dog-star never glows
I wear away my days.

My hands are horny hard,
And black with working in the vein,
And like the clothes upon my back
My speech is rough and plain;
Well, if I strumble with my tongue
I’ve one excuse to say,
’Tis not the collier’s heart that’s wrong,

At every shift, be it soon or late,
I haste my bread to earn,
And anxiously my kindred wait
And watch for my return;
For death that leaves all alike,
Whate’er their rank may be,
Amid the fire and damp may strike

How little do the great ones care
Who sit at home secure,
What hidden dangers colliers dare,
What hardships they endure;
The very fires their mansions boast,
To cheer themselves and wives,
Mayhap were kindled at the cost

Then cheer up lads, and make ye
Much of every joy ye can;
But let your mirth be always such
As best becomes a man;
However fortune turns about
We’ll still be jovial souls,
For what would America be

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