Come gather round, friends,
and I'll tell you a tale
When the red iron ore
pits run plenty
Now the cardboard -filled windows,
the old men on the benches
I tell you now, the whole town is empty
In the north end of town,
my own children have grown
I was raised on the other,
in the wee hours of youth,
my mother took sick
I was brought up by my brother,
and the iron ore poured
as the years passed the door
The drag lines and the shovels,
they was hummin'
Till one day my brother,
he just failed to come home
The same as my father before him
Well, a long winter's wait
from the window I watched
My friends,
they could n't have been kinder
An d my schooling was cut
as I quit in the spring
To marry John Thomas,
miner
Well, years passed again
and the givin' was good
With the lunch buckets
filled every season
Till with three babies born
the work was cut down
And a half a day's shift with no reason
And the shaft was soon shut
and more work was cut
And the fire in the air felt frozen,
and then a man comes to speak,
and he said in one week,
he said number eleven was closing,
or they're complaining in east
that they're paying too high.
And they say that your ore
ain't worth digging,
that it's much cheaper down in
the South American in the town,
where the miners worked
almost for nothing.
So the mining gates locked
and the red iron rotted.
And the rooms,
smelled heavy from drinking.
And the sad, sad song
made the hour twice as long,
as it waited for the sun to go sinking.
Well, sits by the window
and he talks to himself
An d the si lence of
tongues was building
till one morning I awoke
and I bet it was bedtime.
And I was left all alone
with three children
and now the summer is gone
and the ground is turning cold.
The stores, one by one,
they are folding
And my children will go
just as soon as they grow
There ain't nothing left here now
to hold me now