When I was a boy growing up in the Kentucky hills. My Daddy worked in a coal-mines to pay his bills.

He worked eight hours a day down on his knees.He had black lung and a coal miners wheeze.

He traveled for miles under ground to get to the coal. But he did a job that made a young man old.

If he didn't like his job you didn't know it. And if he was afraid he didn't show it.

At the end of his shift he came out of that hole. He was wet and tired and black as coal.

My daddy told me "Son don't ever be a coal miner no matter what you do. Because at any mommet a million tons of mountion can come down on you."

Men have tried and some have died down in that dark hell hole. Because that kind of work my boy will tax your body and soul.

If there's an explosion down in the mines shovels and bodies are all you will find.

When your face to face with a miner there's no doubt. You can tell by the coal dust he can't wash out.

When he picks up his shovel and heads for the mine. He is putting his life and his future on the line.

The coal that he is digging and the power plants are burning. Are the big city's life lines that keep the big wheels turning.

We should honor these men in a special way. For all they have done, there should be a coal miners holiday!

By: Ned Nunn