{C:Chorus}
        I was bo[D]rn and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Ho[Em]ller
        Where the co[D]al carts rolled and rumbled past my d[Em]oor
        But now they stand in a ru[D]sty row of all em[Em]pties
        Because the L[C]&N don't st[D]op here an[Em]ymore

I used to think my father was a black man
With scrip enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is as white as the February snow

{C:Chorus}

Never thought I'd live to lean to love the coaldust
Never thought I'd pray to hear those temples roar
But God I wish the grass would turn to money
And then them greenbacks would fill my pockets once more

{C:Chorus}

Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my payday like I done before
But them old kudzu vines was covering the doorway
And there was leaves and grass growing up through the floor

{C:Chorus}


#
# Submitted to the ftp.nevada.edu:/pub/guitar archives
# by Ugo Piomelli 
# 7 November 1992