It's in the evening after dark When the blackleg miner creeps to work, With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt, There goes the blackleg miner. He takes his pick and down he goes To hew the coal that lies below, There's not a woman in this town row Won't look at the blackleg miner. Oh, Delaval is a terrible place, They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face, Around the heaps they run a footrace To catch the blackleg miner. So, dinna gan near the Seghill mine. Across the way they stretch a line, To catch the throat and break the spine Of the dirty blackleg miner. So take his tools and pick as well, And hoy them down the pit of hell, Down ye go, we pay you well, You dirty blackleg miner. So join the union while you may, Don't wait until your dying day For that may not be far away, You dirty blackleg miner.