Don: Thanks for pointing me to the Millennium Stage! It looks like a rich resource. I've bookmarked their archive search page and plan to return to it to view other performances.

I liked this song so well I decided to transcribe the whole thing. A few words are different from the 2 verses I posted above. The concert is called Brian McNeill and Friends: New Songs of Scotland. You can play a video of it by going to that page and clicking "Play this Performance." Ed Miller begins his spoken introduction at 10 minutes into the 54-minute program.

I had to guess at some place names. Corrections are welcome.

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS
(Words, Brian McNeill. Music, Ed Miller)

I was born in the village of Kilkenzie,
And my faither was an elder o' the kirk,
And the day I reached sixteen, he looked me in the een
And told me it was time I was in work;
For employment was a way to fight the devil,
And I must challenge him wherever he was found;
That if I wanted decent pay, there were five different ways:
North, south, east, west or down.

CHORUS: I used to battle wi' the Prince o' Darkness.
I used to steal [or "tear"] away his heart [or "soul"] through a four-foot seam.
And when they asked if I was poor, I'd tell them, "Aye, sure,"
But they never had to teach me how to dream.

Oh, the first time I went in, then I was shakin'.
I was just a laddie frightened o' the dark,
But wi' a cutter in my hand, I soon became a man,
And I was surely never frightened o' the wark.
I learned to listen for the creakin' o' the timber,
Tae watch the air aroond the candle flame,
And on ev'ry sweated turn I knew how many risks were run,
And that danger was a miner's middle name. CHORUS

So I went down in Newtongrange and Kirkcaldy,
Sweatin' blood for seven bob a week;
And in the shuttle and the cage, I learned the values of the age
From men who never turned the other cheek;
And when my father asked if I was still for Jesus,
Was he my hope and my Savior doon the mine,
I said I'd bow my head in prayer if I turned and found Him there
At my shoulder on a union picket line. CHORUS

But now I work in the Mining Museum.
I show the tourists what my job used to be;
And when they ask about my clan, I tell them I'm a workin' man,
And the union was clan enough for me.
It gave me brothers frae the Rettin (?) tae the Rhondda,
And comrades frae the Rockies tae the Vans (?)
But there's nae coloured freer race (?) when ye're sweatin' at the face
Wi' a pick or a shovel in your hand. CHORUS

Ah, but now we've a government in London,
And the New Labour Party's won the day,
And they come back to find their roots in their sharp Italian suits,
And when the cameras are gone, so are they.
And they whisper that socialism's dyin',
Ye cannae sell it at the supermarket till;
But where there's fifty lads like me, we'll make bloody sure they see
That ideas are the hardest things to kill. CHORUS