Here in Harlan County, the choices are fewTo keep the food on the table and the babies in shoesYou can grow marijuana way back in the pines Or work for the man down in the minesYou never forget your first day in the hole There's a pit in your stomach and your mouth'sfull of coal There's no turning back once you make up your mindAs the cart rattles on down in the mineWay down in the mines, your tears turn to mud And you can't catch your breath for the dust in your lungsAnd old in hillbilly gold, where the sun never shinesTwelve hours a day, you're digging your grave Way down in the minesWell the old timers talk, but you just don't believe It can all go to hell at two thousand feetLife sways in the balance of nature and time And fate has no mercy down in the minesThe news spread like fire and burned through those hillsHopes were held high, but five men got killed On the wings of canaries, their souls surely flyWhile their bones spend eternity down in the minesWay down in the mines, your tears turn to mud And you can't catch your breath for the dust in your lungsAnd old in hillbilly gold, where the sun never shinesTwelve hours a day, you're digging your grave Way down in the minesSo take a flask from your cribcage and a pole of moonshineAnd say a prayer for them boys down in the mines*