Blood on Their Hands

In 1889 in the Pennsylvania mines,

Near the little mountain town of Avondale,

One hundred and ten coal-mining boys and men

Were buried ‘neath a mass of rock and shale.

And as they watched outside, their wives and mothers cried

And they begged God to hold back Death’s hand.

But in their hearts they knew it was the mine owners who

Had the blood of the workers on their hands.

CHORUS: Blood on their hands, they had blood on their hands,

They had the blood of the workers on their hands.

Blood on their hands, they had blood on their hands

They had the blood of the workers on their hands.

A century has gone by since the days those miners died,

But safety still eludes us in this land.

Each day some worker sees deadly injuries

And their blood is on some corporate captains’ hands.

CHORUS: Blood on their hands, they’ve got blood on their hands,

They’ve got the blood of the workers on their hands.

Blood on their hands, they’ve got blood on their hands,

They’ve got the blood of the workers on their hands.

The Avondale of our time is a shipyard, not a mine,

A dangerous deathtrap down in Lousianne,

That they try to sanitize every time a worker dies,

But they can’t erase the bloodstains from their hands.

CHORUS: Blood on their hands, they’ve got blood on their hands,

They’ve got the blood of the workers on their hands.

Blood on their hands, they’ve got blood on their hands,

They’ve got the blood of the workers on their hands.

Each job fatality is a needless tragedy,

So we’ve got to speak out and take a stand

But if we just sit back, and we don’t rise up and act,

We’ll have the blood of the workers on our hands.

CHORUS: Blood on our hands, we’ll have blood on our hands,

We’ll have the blood of the workers on our hands.

Blood on our hands, we’ll have blood on our hands,

We’ll have the blood of the workers on our hands.

Paul McKenna Music