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Ever’ mornin’ the mine you could see him arrive |
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He stood] six-foot six and weighed two forty-five |
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Kinda broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hip |
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Ever’- body knew you didn’t give no „lip“, to |
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Nobody seemed to know where John called home |
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He just drifted into town and stayed all alone |
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He didn’t say much, kinda quiet and shy |
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And if you spoke at all, you just said hi, to |
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Somebody said he came from New Orleans |
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Where he got in a fight over a Cajun Queen |
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And a crashin’ blow from a huge right hand |
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Sent a Louisana fellow to the promised land, |
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Then came the day at the bottom of the mine |
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When a timber cracked and men started cryin’ |
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Miners were prayin’ and hearts beat fast |
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And ever’body tho’t that they’d breathed their last, |
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Thru the dust and the smoke of this man made hell |
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Walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well |
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Grabbed a sagging timber and gave out with a groan |
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And like a giant Oak tree just stood there alone, |
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With all of his strength, he gave a mighty shove |
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Then a miner yelled out, there’s a light up above |
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And twenty men scrambled from a would-be grave |
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And now there’s only one left down there to save, |
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With jacks and timbers they started back down |
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Then came that rumble way down in the ground |
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And smoke and gas belched out of that mine |
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And ever’body knew it was the end of the line, for |
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Now they never reopened that worthless pit |
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They just placed a marble stand in front of it |
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These few words are written on that stand |
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At the bottom of this mine likes a big, big man, |
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