Among the pit heaps as evening grew nigh.
I spied a young maiden all dressed in deep mourning
A weeping and wailing with many a sigh.
I stepped up beside her and this I addressed her
"Pray, tell me fair maid of your trouble and pain."
Sobbing and sighing at last she did answer
"Johnny Murphy, kind sir, was my true lover's name.
To work down the mines of High Blantyre he came.
The wedding was fixed, all the guests were invited
That calm summer's evening my Johnny was slain.
The explosion was heard, all the women and children
With pale anxious faces made haste to the mine.
When the truth was made known the hills rang with their mourning.
Three hundred and ten young miners were slain.
That Blantyre explosion they'll never forget.
And all you young miners who hear my sad story
Shed a tear for the victims who were laid to their rest."