BANKS OF THE DEE

Last Saturday night on the banks of the Dee
I met an old man in distress I could see
We sat down together and to me he did say
I've lost my employment 'cause my hair it's turned grey

Chorus;
I am an old miner aged fifty and six
If I could get lots I would raffle my picks
I'd raffle them, I'd sell them I'd throw them away
For I can't get employment my hair has turned grey

When I was a young chap I was just like the rest
Each day in the pit I'd do my very best
When I had a loose place I'd be filling all day
Now at fifty and six my hair it's turned grey

Last Wednesday night to the reckoning I went
To the colliery office I went straight fornenst
I'd just got my pay packet, I was walking away
When they gave me my notice 'cause my hair it's turned grey

Now all you young fellows, it's you that's to blame
If you get good places, you'll do just the same
If you get good prices you'll hew them away
But you're sure to regret it when your hair it's turned grey.

HTML line breaks added. -JoeClone, 12-Apr-01.