Oh, 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!

Well he grubs his dugs and down he goes
To hue the coal that lies below,
There's not a woman in this town-row
Will look at the blackleg miner.

Oh, Delaval is a terrible place.
They rub wet clay in a blackleg's face,
And around the heaps they run a foot race,
There goes the backleg miner!

So, don't go near the Seghill mine.
Across the way they stretch a line,
To catch the throat and break the spine
Of the dirty backleg miner.

Well he grubs his dugs and his stick as well,
And he hoys them down the pit of hell.
It's down you go, and fare you well,
You dirty blackleg miner!

So join the union while you may.
Don't wait till your dying day,
For that may not be far away,
You dirty blackleg miner!

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