When I was a curly-headed baby, my daddy set me proud upon his knee.
He said, son, you go to school, learn your letters, don't you be a dusty coal miner like me.
I was born and raised in the mouth of the hazard holler, with coal cars rumblin' and a-roarin' past my door.
Now they're standin' in a rusty row, all empty, and yellin' in, don't stop here no more.
I used to think my daddy was a rich man, with script enough to buy the company store.
But now he goes downtown with empty pockets, and his face as white as a February snow.
I was born and raised in the mouth of the hazard holler, with coal cars rumblin' and a-roarin' past my door.
Now they're standin' in a rusty row, all empty, and yellin' in, don't stop here no more.
Last night I dreamt I went down to the office, to draw my payday like I'd done before.
Them old kudzu vines was growin' through the doorway, there's trees and grass growin' through the floor.
I was born and raised in the mouth of the hazard holler, with coal cars rumblin' and a-roarin' past my door.
Now they're standin' in a rusty row, all empty, and yellin' in, don't stop here no more.
I never thought I'd live to love the coal dust, never thought I'd pray to hear the temple roar.
But Lord I wish that grass could turn to money, and the greenbacks fill my pockets once more.
I was born and raised in the mouth of the hazard holler, with coal cars rumblin' and a-roarin' past my door.
Now they're standin' in a rusty row, all empty, and yellin' in, don't stop here no more.
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