It was the early spring and the strike was on
They run us miners out of doors
Out from the houses that the company owned
We set up tents down at old Ludlow

I was worried bad about my children
Soldiers guarding from the railroad bridge
Every once in a while bullets would fly
Kicking up gravel underneath our feet

We were so afraid they'd kill our children
We dug a cave about seven foot deep
We carried the young ones and a pregnant woman
Down into that cave to keep

That very night the soldiers waited
Until us miners was fast asleep
They crept into our little tent town
And they soaked our tents with kerosene

Then they struck a match and the blaze it started
And the roar of the gattling gun
I made a run for the children but a fire wall stopped me
Thirteen children died from their guns

I'll never forget the look on the faces
Of the men and the women that awful day
As we stood around for to preach their funerals
And lay the corpses of the dead away
Then we took some cement and we walled that cave up
Where those thirteen children died
And I said, "God bless the mine workers' union,"
Then I hung my head and cried