We're all the way from Lanarkshire, we’re thirty hardy men
And we've crossed the bold Atlantic to the shores of Cape Breton
They told us there'd be honest work, there's scarce of that at home
But today we lay our tools down as if that coal was stone
As if that coal was stone
For Lingan we were headed, boys, and thought we had it made
A rich seam lay in waiting for our skilled and eager trade
But just before we landed, well the story it came 'round
That a hundred solid local men would not go underground
Would not go underground
And here we are but poor men, three thousand miles we've gone
But we can see, as clear as day, the right man from the wrong
The right man from the wrong
The tale was too familiar-we'd been through the same at home
Where a man could labour years and still be cast out on his own
If ever he should fall sick or be injured in the mine
It's as if he'd never given of his breath or of his time
His breath or of his time

And here we are but poor men, three thousand miles we've gone
But we can see, as clear as day, the right man from the wrong
The right man from the wrong

We'd rather make it empty-handed back across the sea
Than rob our Gaelic brothers in their fight for dignity
They say a hungry belly can cloud a man's resolve
But sharp as tacks, we saw our brothers' backs against the wall
Their backs against the wall
And here we are but poor men, three thousand miles we've gone
But we can see, as clear as day, the right man from the wrong
The right man from the wrong
Yes, here we are but poor men, three thousand miles and oh
We can see, as clear as day, how close we are to home
How close we are to home