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%% Coal Pickin'
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X:7
T:Coal Pickin'
R:Folk Song
M:2/4
C:Trad
O:England
L:1/8
B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire
N:Mike Harding
K:G
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Coal Pickin'

When I were just a little lad
There were no time for play, For it's
"Up you get andwith yer dad,
Coalpickin'," Ma would say.

Now in the year of Twenty-six,
The times were very hard,
The mines had all come out on strike,
It was quiet in the coal pit yard.

So up onto the rooks we'd go
To see what we could find,
There'd be many a one we'd see up there,
With thoughts the same in mind.

Now in the summer of Twenty-six,
It was exceeding hot,
But we'd sweat all day in the burning heat
'Till we knew we had our lot.

Our blackened hands were cracked and sore,
Wi' scrattin' through the slag,
And the small reward we got for it
Was one-and-six a bag.

Ah'm owder now and glad to say,
Me life has not been bad,
But I'll not forget those days I went
Coal pickin' with me dad.