When I was a curly headed baby My daddy sat me down on his knee He said, go to school and get your letters Don't you be a dusty miner like me I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door But now they stand in a rusty row, all empty And the L & N don't stop here anymore I used to think my daddy was a black man With script enough to buy the company store But now he goes to town with empty pockets And his face is white as a February snow I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money And those green backs would fill my pockets once more Last night I dreamed I went down to the coal yard To draw my pay as I had done before Them old kudzu vines covered the window Trees and grass growing through the floor