“That Old Devil makes his offers, man,
or that’s what I been told; 
‘he puts black diamonds in your hand,
don’t say when they’ll run old.’  

T’was dark down in the mines, ice-cold,
and picks went to and fro.
You dig too far south to hell you’ll go
just mining, mining coal.  

And we stripped each holler two-fold
till all was left was sand
till the Apps they all bled bleeding holes
and the folks here all were damned.  

Well I’m a simple sorta man,
but Data’s the new coal.  
They’ll bring those centers to Kentuck-lands
and in turn just take our soul.”