• I was born and raised on the wrong side of the mountain.
• Lived there until the age of twenty-one.

• In this damn dirty minin’ town
• The men go down into the ground every day.
• And the women pray.

• I saw young men from the mines with red rims to their eyes
• And black dust, a coffin in their lungs.

• When I was just a little babe, I sat on grandma’s knee
• And she was crying as grandpa lay dyin’ of a mining injury
• And he was only forty-three… forty-three.

• So I’m going away from the wrong side of the mountain.
• Gonna find a place where the air is clear and fair.

• When I was just a child of nine a-comin’ home from school
• Heard tell of a cave-in in the mines and I passed a murky pool.

• I’m sick of the sight of young men dyin’
• Sick of the sound of their kin folk cryin’,

• I heard my mama cryin’ before I understood
• That the pool I passed in the middle of the road
• Was my own sweet father’s blood

• There’s bound to be a better life somewhere.

• And he was only twenty-nine… working in the mines
• Twenty-nine… Dyin’ in the mines.

• Wind a-blowin’, drivin’ dirty rain.
• Soot a-streamin’ down my window pane.

• In this damn dirty minin’ town
• The men go down into the ground every day
• And the women pray.

• Water runnin’ underneath my door.
• Makes me wonder what I’m living’ for!

• And we pray day and night.

• So I’m going away from the wrong side of the mountain.
• Gonna find a place where the air is clear and fair.
• I’m sick of the sounds and sick of the sights

• And we pray night and day.

• There’s bound to be a better life…

• And the women pray.