(Trad; arranged by James Gordon, of Tamarack)
    We are miners, hard rock miners
  To the shaft house we must go
  Pour your bottles on our shoulders
  We are marching to the slow
    On the line boys, on the line boys
  Drill your holes and stand in line
  'til the shift boss comes to tell you
  You must drill her out on top
    Can't you feel the rock dust in your lungs?
  It'll cut down a miner when he is still young
  Two years and the silicosis takes hold
  and I feel like I'm dying from mining for gold
    Yes, I feel like I'm dying from mining for gold