Come an´ gather ´round friends and I´ll tell ya a tale
Of when the red iron ore pits ran a-plenty
But the cardboard-filled windows and old men on the benches
Tell you now that the whole town is empty

In the north end of town, my own children have grown
Well I was raised on the other
In the wee hours of youth, my mother took sick
And I was brought up by my brother

The iron ore poured as the years passed the door
The drag lines and the shovels they was a-hummin´
´Til one day my brother failed to come home
The same as my father before him

Well a long winter´s wait from the winda´ I watched
My friends they couldn´ta been kinder
And my schooling was cut as I quit in the spring
To marry John Thomas, a miner

Oh, 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

Then the shaft was soon shut and more work was cut
And the fire in the air, it felt frozen
´Til a man come to speak and he said in one week
That number eleven was closin´

They 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´

So the minin´ gates locked and the red iron rotted
And the room smelled heavy from drinkin´
When the sad silent song made the hour twice as long
As I waited for the sun to go sinking

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

The summer is gone, the ground´s turning cold
The stores one by one they´re a-foldin´
My children will go
As soon as they grow
For there ain´t nothin´ here now to hold them