I am a girl of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days
I [Incomprehensible] old Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised

My mother, how I hated to leave her
Mother dear, now she is dead
But I had to go and leave her
So my children could have bread

Perhaps, dear friends, you're a wondering
What the miners eat and wear
This question I will try to answer
For I think that it is fair

For breakfast we have bulldog gravy
For dinner we have beans and bread
For the miners don't have any supper
Just a tick of straw that we call a bed

For our clothes be always ragged
And our feet be always bare
And I'm sure if there's a heaven
That the miners will be there