Men Who Die For a Living

As the morning mist rolls over cape chapeau rouge,

Young miners with lunch tins go down with the crews,

To a damp, dusty dungeon to earn a day's pay,

They're the men who die for a living.

Well, they follow the iron springs to the bowels of the mine,

With their oilskins and hammers where the sun never shines;

With stone all around them and death in the air,

They're the men who die for a living.

Well, abraham pike was the first one to go,

Then davey and rennie, augustin and joe;

Like the leaves they are falling, but the others still go,

They're the men who die for a living.

Well, the mines they are gone, but the sadness remains,

For the widows and children who must bear the pain;

And their names they are written in stone on the hill,

All the men who die for a living.

All the men who die for a living.