"Pouring kerosene in their mill
I'm going to old Hard Creek Mountain
Although it's against my will
I'm going to fight for Mother Jones's union
I know that's Mother Jones's will
Yes, I know that's Mother Jones's will"

I'm pretty hoarse. Seems like I can't get it back, and it's all over coal mining, black lung. I'd like to do a lot of singing, but it looks like I'm just about over with. Seem like I can't never get my voice straightened up to do any of it anymore.

I'm still a union man in my heart. If I don't have my name on the book, or if I don't get my pension, I guess I'm one of the stronger union men and one of as good a union men as they is in the world. I don't include nobody because I know what it means to people to be real, to be an A-number-one 100 percent union man. And if you're that, you won't down your brother. If you're that, you won't go over a picket line. If you're that, you won't scab against the other man. If you're that, you won't work for non-union wages. And if you're that, a 100 percent union man, and they fire your brother, you won't go in his place and take his job. You'll every one walk out with him 'til they put him back in and pay him. And you'll stay out until you win it. You won't work, and you won't let nobody else, if you're a 100 percent union man. But I'm still fighting and looking for my union pension, and I'm entitled to it. I worked the time, and I want it, and I won't quit staying until I get it, and if I don't ever get it, I'll hate the man that knocked me out of it. That's all I got to say about it.