Well, I was born a coal miner's daughter
in a cabin on a hill in Butchew Hallar.
We were poor but we had love.
That's the one thing my daddy make sure.
He shovel the coal with me, a poor man's daughter.
My daddy work all night abent me a coal mine.
All day long he abid to hold one corn.
Mammy rock the babies at night,
where the bottle by the cold red light,
and everything will start all over from the break of dawn.
Daddy love to raise eight kids on the month of May.
Mammy stroke their clothes on the washboard every day.
Well, I've seen her fingers bleed.
Took complain, there was no need should smile,
and mammy understand in ways.
In the summertime we didn't have shoes to wear,
but in wintertime we all get a brand new pair.
From the mellow to play along,
morning light from ceiling of home.
Daddy always managed to meet the morning somewhere.
Yes, 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.
Head lied wishly cause we were tired.
I've never thought of ever leaving Butchew Hallar.
Well, a lot of things have changed from way back when.
It feels so good to be back home again.
Not much felt left to flow,
not to lose here anymore,
except the memories of a coal miner's daughter.