Lyrics:
the Seghill mine, Across the way they stretch a line To catch the throat, to break the spine Of the dirty blackleg miner. They grabbed his duds, his picks
a terrible place They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face And around the heap they run a footrace To catch the blackleg miner And even down near the Seghill
a terrible place They rub wet clay in the blacklet's face Around the pit-heaps they run a foot race To catch the blackleg miner Divvn't gan near the Seghill
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