Many a tale has been told of yore 
Of the men who go down in the mine, 
But none as gruesome as the tale I'll tell
Of the pit called number nine. 

Now, number nine was a mighty shaft, 
It went for many a mile, 
And many a man has gone into it, 
And been lost for a mighty long while. 
And the creaking roof and the sagging piles
Would leave these men undaunted, 
What scared the living shit out of them, 
Number nine was haunted. 

Now your mining man is a macho stud, 
Smoking and drinking beer, 
But what was lurking in number nine
Would cause any man to fear. 
Down in the depths beneath the ground
Was the cause of all this fright, 
Haunting the pit from dawn to dusk
Was a massive transvestite. 

Three hundred pounds, the rumour went, 
In panties, bra and dress.
How tall it was in three inch heels
Was anybody's guess. 
It would go dormant for a while, 
And then when it was ready, 
It would go searching for a man, 
And it would don a teddy. 
And woe betide the mining man, 
Who fell into its clutch, 
One bite and he'd become TV, 
No more would he be butch. 

He'd find himself in women's clothes, 
He'd wear his wife's attire, 
He'd want to be one of the girls
With all his hearts desire. 
The dreaded monster in the mine
Would make a man surrender, 
And fill his mind with a desire
For stockings and suspender. 
With knuckles dragging on the ground, 
They'd go into the mine, 
And they'd come prancing out again
With underwear so fine. 
How can a macho miner then
Face his fellow man
When he expresses a desire
To now be known as Nan. 

Now this terrifying monster
Has not been seen in years, 
Until one day in Halifax
There was a sale at Sears. 
Half price on all the women's clothes, 
'Twas on the radio, 
What nobody realised, 
'T was broadcast down below. 
Loudspeakers went down in the mine
With music for the ear
To keep the merry miners
Full of merry cheer.