Blind Fiddler-Eric Andersen

I lost my eyes in the Harlan pits in the year of '56 While pulling a faulty drill chain that was out of fix It bounded from the wheel and there concealed my doom I am a blind fiddler far from my home. I went up into Louisville to visit Dr. Laine He operated on one of my eyes still it is the same The Blue Ridge can't support me it just ain't got the room Would a wealthy colliery owner like to hear a fiddler's tune? With politics and threatening tones the owners can control And the unions have all left us a long, long time ago Machinery lying scattered, no drill sounds in the mine For all the good a collier is, he might as well be blind. Was a time I worked a long fourteen for a short eight bucks a day You're lucky if you're mining, that's what the owners say And if you've got complaining, you'd better aim to keep it low How come they took my food stamps, does anybody know? My father was a miner's son, a miner still is he But his eyes have took a fever, and there's a shaking in his knee The holes are closing rapidly, he cannot understand A machine has got a bigger arm than him or any other man. Plastic for the windows, cardboard for the door The baby's mouth is twisting, it'll twist a little more They need welders in Chicago falls hollow to the floor How many miners made that trip a thousand times or more. The lights are burning bright, there's laughter in the town But the streets are dark and empty, there ain't a miner to be found They're in some lonesome hollow, where the sun refuse to shine And the baby's screams are muffled in the sweetness of the wine. With a wife and four young children depending now on me Whatever can I serve them with? My God, I cannot see Through the Blue Ridge Mountains I am content to roam I am a blind fiddler, far from my home Yes, I am a blind fiddler, far from my home.