Letras: Woody Guthrie. Other. The Dying Miner.

It happened an hour ago
Way down in this tunnel of coal;
This gas caught a fire from somebody's lamp,
And the miners are choking in smoke.

Goodbye to you, little Dicky;
Goodbye to my wife that I love,
Most of these miners won't be coming home,
Tonight when the work whistle blows.

(It) looks like the end for me
And for all of my buddies I see;
We're all writing letters on state rock walls,
Please carry my word to my wife.

I found a little place in the air,
I crawled and I drug myself here,
But the smoke's getting bad and the fumes coming in,
This coal gas is burning my eyes.