Get the rocks in the box
Get the water right down to your socks
This bulkhead's built of fallen brethren bones

We all do what we can
We endure our fellow man
And we sing our songs to the headframes' creaks and moans

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And you won't make a dime
On this gray Granite Mountain Mine
Of dirt you're made and to dirt you will return

So while we're living here
Let's get this little one thing clear
There's plenty of men to die; you don't jump your turn