I can hew, boys, I can hack it out
I can hew the coal, I can dance and shout
I can hew, boys, coal so black and fine
I’m a collier lad, working down the mine
It’s Saint Monday’s day, and well I do admire
To sit snug at home by my own coal fire
Then it’s down to the pub for a pint or two
For to work on Monday, that would never do
Now my son’s fourteen, he’s a strapping lad
He’ll go down to the mine just like his dad
And when Friday comes we’ll pick up our pay
And we’ll drink together to round out the day
Well, I likes me whiskey and I likes me beer
I’ll drink fourteen pints and I’ll not feel queer
I can hold my liquor as well as any man
And I’ll dance and sing as long as I can
And it’s when I die then I know full well
I’ll not go to Heaven, I am bound for Hell
And my pick and shovel, Old Nick he will admire
And he’ll set me to hewing coal for his own Hellfire