It's in the evening after dark
When the blackleg miner creeps to work,
With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt,
There goes the blackleg miner.
He takes his pick and down he goes
To hew the coal that lies below,
There's not a woman in this town row
Won't look at the blackleg miner.
Oh, Delaval is a terrible place,
They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face,
Around the heaps they run a footrace
To catch the blackleg miner.
So, dinna gan near the Seghill mine.
Across the way they stretch a line,
To catch the throat and break the spine
Of the dirty blackleg miner.
So take his tools and pick as well,
And hoy them down the pit of hell,
Down ye go, we pay you well,
You dirty blackleg miner.
So join the union while you may,
Don't wait until your dying day
For that may not be far away,
You dirty blackleg miner.