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Listen to Mighty Poplar (feat. Andrew Marlin, Noam Pikelny, Chris Eldridge, Alex Hargreaves & Greg Garrison) by Mighty Poplar
ALBUMMighty Poplar (feat. Andrew Marlin, Noam Pikelny, Chris Eldridge, Alex Hargreaves & Greg Garrison)Mighty Poplar
Listen to Pickers featuring Mighty Poplar
PLAYLISTPickersApple Music Americana

Top Songs By Mighty Poplar

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Mighty Poplar
Mighty Poplar
Performer
Andrew Marlin
Andrew Marlin
Performer
Noam Pikelny
Noam Pikelny
Performer
Chris Eldridge
Chris Eldridge
Performer
Alex Hargreaves
Alex Hargreaves
Performer
Greg Garrison
Greg Garrison
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Robert Dylan
Robert Dylan
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mighty Poplar
Mighty Poplar
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Come an' gather 'round friends and I'll tell ya a tale
Of when the red iron ore pits, they ran a-plenty
But the cardboard filled windows and old men on the benches
Tell you now that the whole town is empty
[Verse 2]
In the north end of town my own children have grown
While I was raised on the other
In the wee hours of youth, my mother took sick
And I was brought up by my brother
[Verse 3]
Well, the iron ore poured as the years passed the door
The drag lines and the shovels were a-hummin'
'Til one day my brother failed to come home
The same as my father before him
[Verse 4]
Well a long winter's wait from the winda' I watched
My friends, they couldn'ta been kinder
My schooling was cut as I quit in the spring
To marry John Thomas, a miner
[Verse 5]
The years passed again and the givin' was good
With the lunch bucket filled every season
What with three babies born, the work was cut down
To a half a day's shift with no reason
[Verse 6]
So the shaft was soon shut and more work was cut
The fire in the air, it felt frozen
And a man come to speak and he said in one week
That number eleven was closin'
[Instrumental]
They're complained in the East, they're payin' too high
They say that your ore ain't worth a-diggin'
That it's much cheaper down in the South American towns
Where the miners work almost for nothin'
[Verse 7]
So the minin' gates locked and the red iron rotted
The room smelled heavy from drinkin'
And the sad silent song made the hour twice as long
As I waited for the sun to go sinking
[Verse 8]
Well, I lived by the window as he talked to himself
This silence of tongues, it was buildin'
'Til one morning's wake, the bed it was bare
And I's left alone with three children
[Verse 9]
Now the summer's gone and the ground's turning cold
The stores one by one they're all foldin'
My children will go as soon they grow
For there ain't nothin' here now to hold them
Written by: Robert Dylan

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