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North Country Blues
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Joan Baez
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1
Come gather 'round friends
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And I'll tell you a tale
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Of when the red iron pits ran plenty.
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But the cardboard filled windows
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And old men on the benches
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Tell you now that the whole town is empty.
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In the north end of town,
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My own children are grown
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But I was raised on the other.
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In the wee hours of youth,
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My mother took sick
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And I was brought up by my brother.
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The iron ore poured
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As the years passed the door,
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The drag lines an' the shovels they was a-humming.
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'Til one day my brother
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Failed to come home
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The same as my father before him.
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Well a long winter's wait,
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From the window I watched.
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My friends they couldn't have been kinder.
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And my schooling was cut
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As I quit in the spring
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To marry John Thomas, a miner.
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Oh the years passed again
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And the givin' was good,
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With the lunch bucket filled every season.
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What with three babies born,
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The work was cut down
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To a half a day's shift with no reason.
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Then the shaft was soon shut
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And more work was cut,
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And the fire in the air, it felt frozen.
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'Til a man come to speak
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And he said in one week
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That number eleven was closin'.
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They complained in the East,
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They are paying too high.
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They say that your ore ain't worth digging.
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That it's much cheaper down
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In the South American towns
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Where the miners work almost for nothing.
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So the mining gates locked
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And the red iron rotted
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And the room smelled heavy from drinking.
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Where the sad, silent song
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Made the hour twice as long
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As I waited for the sun to go sinking.
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I lived by the window
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As he talked to himself,
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This silence of tongues it was building.
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Then one morning's wake,
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The bed it was bare,
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And I's left alone with three children.
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The summer is gone,
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The ground's turning cold,
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The stores one by one they're a-foldin'.
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My children will go
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As soon as they grow.
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Well, there ain't nothing here now to hold them.
Bob Dylan // North Country Blues (Newpo...
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