[04:47.00]Down in the hollow where the black seams run,
[04:47.00]My daddy walked home when the work was done,
[04:47.00]Dust on his face and pain in his eyes,
[04:47.00]I’d wait by the fence ‘neath the smokey skies.
[04:47.00]He mined the devil’s blood, black and thick,
[04:47.00]Coal so dark it made the daylight sick,
[04:47.00]Said, “Boy, this fire keeps men alive,
[04:47.00]But it burns their soul ‘fore they turn twenty-five.”
[04:47.00]The canaries sang low in that underground grave,
[04:47.00]Every breath a bargain, every shift brave,
[04:47.00]And I watched him fade with each day’s toll,
[04:47.00]Diggin’ the devil’s blood to feed our coal.
[04:47.00]I said, “Daddy, someday I’ll swing that pick like you,”
[04:47.00]He smiled through the dust and said, “Boy, don’t you.”
[04:47.00]There’s better things to mine, he said, than the devil’s blood below,
[04:47.00]Follow where the clear streams wind, where bright veins glow,
[04:47.00]From Tellico Plains to Blue Ridge’s hold,
[04:47.00]You’ll find your fortune in the mountain’s gold.
[04:47.00]Years rolled on, and the black turned to gray,
[04:47.00]The coal seams thinned, and the men drifted away,
[04:47.00]But I took his words like gospel told,
[04:47.00]And I followed the quartz to the Smoky’s gold.
[04:47.00]Through creeks that ran red with Carolina clay,
[04:47.00]I panned the dawn and I dug all day,
[04:47.00]The pick rang bright where the quartz veins lie,
[04:47.00]And I felt my father’s spirit nigh.
[04:47.00]I still hear his voice in the mountain breeze,
[04:47.00]Sayin’, “Boy, chase the light, not what makes you wheeze.”
[04:47.00]There’s better things to mine, he said, than the devil’s blood below,
[04:47.00]Follow where the clear streams wind, where bright veins glow,
[04:47.00]From Tellico Plains to Blue Ridge’s hold,
[04:47.00]You’ll find your fortune in the mountain’s gold.
[04:47.00](Fiddle softens; tone nostalgic)
[04:47.00]Now my hands are worn like his once were,
[04:47.00]But I mine the light, not the blackened spur,
[04:47.00]And when my own boy asks what men should find,
[04:47.00]I tell him, “Son, let the gold be your kind.”
[04:47.00]There’s better things to mine, I say, than the devil’s blood below,
[04:47.00]Follow where the clear streams wind, where bright veins glow,
[04:47.00]From Tellico Plains to Blue Ridge’s hold,
[04:47.00]We’ll keep our souls in the mountain’s gold.