And a great one it is; — best sung a capella in an Irish bar.  Poxy Boggards, anyway.

I CAN HEW by David Dodds

On Saint Monday’s day, it’s well I do admire
When I sit at home by me own coal fire
Then it’s off to the pub, for a glass or two
For to work on a Monday, that would never do

Well I like my whiskey and I like my beer
I’ll drink fourteen pints and I’ll not feel queer
I can hold my beer as good as any man.
And I’ll dance and sing as long as I can.

I can hew boys, I can hack it out
I can hew the coal, I can dance and shout.
I can hew boys, coal that’s black and fine
I’m a collier lad, working down the mine.

Well my boy’s fourteen, he’s a strappin’ lad
And he’ll go to the pits soon, just like his dad.
And when Friday comes, we’ll pick up our pay.
And we’ll drink together, to round off the day

I can hew boys, I can hack it out
I can hew the coal, I can dance and shout.
I can hew boys, coal that’s black and fine,
I’m a collier lad, working down the mine.

And its when I’m dead.. oh I know full well,
I’ll not go to heaven, I am bound for hell.
And my pick and shovel, old Nick he’ll admire,
And he’ll set me hew’n coal for his own fire.

I can hew boys, I can hack it out
I can hew the coal, I can dance and shout.
I can hew boys, coal that’s black and fine,
I’m a collier lad, working down the mine.

BZ