Mine is a tale of many man,
From Pikeville on west of Waco.
I make my living with my back and my hands,
Searching the caverns for coal.
What's left of a man, too soon past his prime,
Most days i feel like a slave,
Doing my time on the company dime,
Down in a rock solid grave.
It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
But it's a life to which I am bound.
Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
Since i never got out of this town,
I spend my days below the ground.
When I was a boy, about fifteen years old
The mine wasn't part of my plan.
I had big dreams, on down the road,
To be a doctor or a business man.
But then daddy, he died, with a chest full of coal
And a new sense of duty arrived.
Then I took his place, down in that black hole,
And made sure the family survived.
It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
But it's a life to which I am bound.
Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
Since i never got out of this town,
I spend my days below the ground.
As I walk out the door, I look down the hall,
Towards the room of my only son,
And of the family pictures that hang on the wall,
I pray someday he'll be the one,
Who can break down the chain of three generations,
And leave all this misery behind,
Find a new town and a good occupation,
And leave me with some peace of mind.
It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
But it's a life to which I am bound.
Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
Since i never got out of this town.
It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
But it's a life to which I am bound.
Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
Since i never got out of this town,
I spend my days below the ground.