My daddy was a miner, said there was nothing finer
|
Than an Irish man who worked an honest day
|
From Steamboat Row, in rain or shine, he¡¯d make his way down to the mine
|
Along the dusty road he¡¯d travel
|
Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
|
Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row.
|
|
He used to tell about the time he got hurt down in the mine
|
He said he¡¯d never go back down again
|
But in his heart he knew he would, he did the only thing he could
|
Kept on walkin¡¯ down that road
|
Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
|
Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row.
|
|
But when he took to drinkin¡¯ we knew that he was thinkin¡¯
|
That his days were quickly coming to an end
|
He¡¯d only speak of Steamboat Row, he said someday we ought to go
|
And walk along that dusty road
|
Fifteen miles to get there, fifteen miles to go
|
Fifteen miles back home again, home to Steamboat Row.
|
|
-----------------
|
Steamboat Row
|
| Gerry Rafferty |
