Well, I was born a coal miner's daughter,
In a cabin, on a hill in butcher holler,
We were poor, but we had love,
That's the one thing daddy made sure of,
He shoveled coal to make a poor man's dollar.
My daddy worked all night in the Van Lear Cole Mines,
All day long in a field a-hoein' corn,
Mommy rocked the babies at night,
and read The Bible by the coal-oil light,
And everything would start all over come break of mornin'.
Daddy loved and raised 8 kids on a miner' pay,
Mommy scrubbed our clothes on a wash board every day,
Why, I seen her fingers bleed, to complain, there was no need,
She'd smile in mommy's understanding way.
In the summertime we didn't have shoes to wear,
But in the winter time, we'd all get a brand new pair,
From a mail-order catalog, money mad from selling a hog,
Daddy all ways managed to get the money somewhere.
Yeah, I'm proud to be a coal miner's daughter,
I remember well, the well where I drew water,
The work we done was hard, at night we'd sleep 'cause we were tired,
I never thought of leavin' Butcher Holler.
Well, a lot of things have changed since way back then,
And it's so good to be back home again,
Not much left but the floor, nothin' lives here anymore,
'Cept the memories of a coal miner's daughter.