Tuesday 1 May 2012

Coal dust on the fiddle


Coal dust on the fiddle,
Coal dust on the bow,
Daughters of the mountain,
Working down below.
Coal dust on my body
Coal dust in my soul,
Sisters in the coal mine,
Women digging coal.

Some people say that it’s unlucky
To have women down a mine,
They just worked them on the surface,
Picking stones from off the line.
But they fought the superstitions
For rights of work and pay,
And they managed the harassment
That they met along the way.

When Nancy started working there
The men all laid a trap,
When she couldn’t find her dinner-pail
She just took the boss’s snap.
Digging coal to feed your family
And keep them from the cold,
No support from state or husband,
Keeps those monthly pains on hold.

Libby Lindsay fought some battles
To make mining safe for all.
Fought for training, fought for bathrooms,
Closed the peepholes in the wall.
And they fought to join the union,
Went on strike and went to jail.
Some moved on and some got married,
Some were killed but no-one failed.

Some people say that it’s unlucky
To have women down a mine,
But they’re working at the coal-face,
And they’re doing it just fine.