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There is no gold here in the ground
And it's hard to find work here in this town
You can chisel at the granite
And be a cutter in the mines
Like your father was before you
You'll be the next in line
But maybe you know this town too well
Where the quarries are cut to a death knell
But here among the rubble
Old Barre stakes its claim
in the Rock of the Ages
They know a quiet fame

This quarry is the grave of New England
These rocks watch over their heads
This town cuts memory for the living
These stones will remember the dead
I fell to my knees at my brother's grave
Seven full years since he passed away
And I wondered if he heard me
As I walked among the bones
And I wondered if he saw me
Reading every stone
They tell of the lives here in the ground
And the granite all comes from the same town
And here among the rubble
Old Barre stakes its claim
in the Rock of the Ages
They know a quiet fame