I keep listening for the whistle in the morning
But the mines are still; no noise is in the air.
And our children wake up hungry in the morning
For the cupboards are so empty and so bear.
And their little feet, they are so cold, they stumble
And we have to pin their rags upon their backs.
And our homes are broken down and very humble,
And the winter wind comes pourin' through the cracks.
Oh, it's hard to hear the hungry children crying
When I have to hands that want to do their share.
Oh, you rich men in the city, won't you have a little pity
And just listen to miner's prayer?
Just beneath the frozen ground the coal is laying,
Only waiting `till we seek it from its bed.
And above the ground, each miner stands there praying
While each miner's wife bows down her weary head.
Oh, we only ask enough to clothe and feed them
And to hear the hungry children laugh and play.
Oh, if we could give these things to those who need them,
I know that would be a miner's happy day.
as sung by Helen Schneyer