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
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.