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Blind Fiddler

I lost my eyes in the Harlan pits in the year of 56
While pulling a faulty drill chain that was out of fix
It bounded from the wheel and there concealed my doom
I am a blind fiddler far from my home

I went up into Louisville to visit Dr. Lane
He operated on one of my eyes still it is the same
The Blue Ridge can't support me now they just ain't got the room
Would a wealthy colliery owner like to hear a fiddler's tune

My father is a miner's son and a miner still is he
But his eyes have took a fever and there's a shaking in his knee
The holes are closing rapidly he cannot understand
Machine has got a bigger arm than him or any other man

There was a time I worked a long 14 for a short 8 bucks a day
You're lucky if you're working is what the owners say
And if you got complaining you better aim to keep it low
How come they cut my food stamps does anybody know

With politics and threatening tones the owners can control
And the unions have all left us a long long time ago
Machinery lying scattered no drill sounds in the mine
For all the good a collier is he might as well be blind

As recorded on #107 "Steel Drivin' Man"

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