Men who die for a living

As the morning mist rolls over cape chapeau rouge,
Young miners with lunch tins go down with the crews,
To a damp, dusty dungeon to earn a day's pay,
They're the men who die for a living.

Well, they follow the iron springs to the bowels of the mine,
With their oilskins and hammers where the sun never shines
With stone all around them and death in the air,
They're the men who die for a living.

Well, abraham pike was the first one to go,
Then davey and rennie, augustin and joe
Like the leaves they are falling, but the others still go,
They're the men who die for a living.

Well, the mines they are gone, but the sadness remains,
For the widows and children who must bear the pain
And their names they are written in stone on the hill,
All the men who die for a living.
All the men who die for a living.