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Written by Sarah Beth Terry & Grace Harrison


Far from the highlands and place of my birth

We settled up high as we can on this dirt

closest to homeland as any on earth

An ocean between who we are, who we were

La di da da da da da da

Sassenachs all with our whiskey and stills

And nobody knew there was gold in them hills

They handed us shovels to pay for our meals

Not keeping count of the men that it kills

La di da...

They blew up the bedrock

They dug them a hole

And ripped off the face in the name of King Coal

They buried our daddies and dreams in the mines

But what will we do with no mountains to climb

What will we do with no mountains to climb

The Children are born here with dust in their lungs

Breathing in black long before they’ve begun

Pass the buck and the bucket from father to son

Digging their graves fore their time here is done

La di da...

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