I am a girl of constant sorrow, I’ve seen trouble all my days. I bid farewell to old Kentucky, The state where I was born and raised. 
My mother, how I hated to leave her, Mother dear who now is dead. But I had to go and leave her So my children could have bread. 
Perhaps, dear friends, you are wonderin’ What the miners eat and wear. This question I will try to answer, For I’m sure that it is fair. 
For breakfast we had bulldog gravy, For supper we had beans and bread. The miners don’t have any dinner, And a tick of straw they call a bed. 
Well, we call this hell on earth, friends, I must tell you all goodbye. Oh, I know you all are hungry, Oh, my darlin’ friends, don’t cry. 
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