(Jean Ritchie)

Oh, when I was a curly-headed baby
My daddy set me down upon his knee
Said, Son, you go to school and learn your letters
Don't be no dusty miner like me

For I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler
Coal cars roaring and a tumbling past my door
Now they're standing rusty, rolling empty
And the L & N don't stop here any more

I used to think my daddy was a black man
With scrip enough to buy the company store
But now he goes downtown with empty pockets
And his face as white as a February snow

Last night I dreamt I went down to the office
To get my payday like I done before
Them old cudsy vines had covered up the doorway
And there was trees and grass, well agrowing right thru the floor

I never thought I'd live to love the coal dust
Never thought I'd pray to hear the tipple roar
But, Lord, how I wish that grass could change to money
Them greenbacks fill my pockets once more

@train @mine
Copyright Geordie Music Publishing, Inc.
recorded by Guy Carawan
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