Come all you young fellows, so young and so fine,
And seek not your fortune in a dark, dreary mine.
It will form as a habit and seep in your soul,
'til the stream of your blood is as black as the coal.
It's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines,
It's dark as a dungeon way down in the mine.
It's many a man I have seen in my day,
Who lived just to labour his whole life away,
Like a fiend with his dope and a drunkard his wine,
A man will have lust for the lure of the mine.
I hope when I'm dead and the ages shall roll,
My body will blacken and turn into coal,
Then I'll look from the door of my heavenly home,
And pity the miner a-diggin' my bones.
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