Sometimes I dream that
I was a coal miner
Sooty black with a
Far off look in my face
The kind of look
That would make you wonder
How many miles
He's been under
And what kind of light
Would shine his way

Living in the hills of
Gardner, Montana
A working slave
For the mercatile store
Every day, livin' poor
Wishing there was
Something more
And wonderin'
If today would be my day

And its such a long hard road
Left to travel
And I'm longin' to be home soon
But this rock will be my tomb
And my friend
There's plenty of room
If your road don't lead you home

This little shanty ain't warm
But its mine
And before the light
I leave my door behind
Goin' down below
Where the sun don't shine
There ain't no wind
And there ain't no pine
Just me, the rock,
And a hammer in my hand