• by Monica Zucker

On top of old smoky,
That coal burning plant,
They say they’ve made coal clean,
But you know they can’t.

They top all the hills when
They dig out the coal.
Then dump waste in rivers,
Like a big sewage bowl.

The stories ‘bout clean coal
Are clearly untrue.
The air is polluted—
T’will suffocate you.

On top of old smoky,
That coal burning plant,
They say they’ve made coal clean,
But you know they can’t.