sł. i mel. oryg.: Ewan McColl

Well, it's in the evening after dark
When the black leg miner creeps to work.
In his moleskin pants and dirty shirt
There goes the black leg miner.

Well, he grabs his pick then down he goes
To dew the coal that lies below,
And devil the women in this town row
Will look at the black leg miner.

And Dalabole is a terrible place,
Where they rub wet clay in the black leg's face.
Around the heaps they run a foot race
To catch the black leg miner.

And do not go near the Skeghill Mine,
For across the way they've stretched a line
To catch the throat and break the spine
Of the dirty black leg miner.

Well, they grab his pick and duds as well
And hurl them down the pit of hell.
So down you go and fare thee well,
You dirty black leg miner!

So, join the union while you may,
Don' t wait till your dying day.
For that may not be fare away
You dirty black leg miner!