Backleg Minor

Well, it's in the evening after dark,
When the blackleg miner creeps to work;
With his corduroys and a dirty shirt,
There goes the blackleg miner.
He takes his tools and down he goes,
To hew the coal that lies below;
There is not a woman in town row,
Will look at the blackleg miner.

O Bonny boys, why don't you gang,
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
To catch the blackleg miner.

Delaval is an awful place,
They rub red clay in the blackleg's face;
Around the town, they run a foot race,
To catch the blackleg miner.
Don't go near the Skeghill Mine,
Across the way, they stretch a line;
To stretch the throat and break the spine,
Of the dirty blackleg miner.

O Bonny boys, why don't you gang,
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
To catch the blackleg miner.

He takes his tools and hearts as well,
And ties them to the pit of hell;
Down you go and fare you well,
You dirty blackleg miner!
So, join the union while you may,
Don't wait until your dying day;
For that may not be far away,
You dirty blackleg miner!

O Bonny boys, why don't you gang,
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
To catch the blackleg miner.

O Bonny boys, why don't you gang,
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
Bonny boy, why don't you gang
To catch the blackleg miner.