Ghosts of Monongah

It was the worst thing the town Had ever seen One hundred years ago They say the walls of the shaft caved in Trapping men at the seam below A fire began and grew out of control Consuming the air and the walls that Were thick with raw coal Three hundred and seven men Consigned to the flames alive From above they heard it all The agonized dying cries of Monongah The hopeless survivors waited Fearing the dead were the lucky ones As the conflagration neared The men clasped hands And beseeched their God To let it be quick but the end Would come slow Black fire devoured the skin and the Flesh from their bones Three hundred and seven men Consigned to the flames alive From above they heard it all Every agonized dying cries at Monongah A Place of unholy rest Where the dead will not be still A place of unsettled debt Where their spirits haunt that hill It was the worst thing The town had ever known So many dead below They say when the wind blows you can Still hear the screams of woe There are some things That can never be erased Unspeakable suffering has left a reproach on this place Three hundred and seven men Three hundred and seven souls From above they can still be heard The unavenged crying ghosts Of Monongah