Millworker
Now my grandfather was a sailor, he blew in off the water
My father was a farmer, and I his only daughter
Took up with a no-good millworkin' man from Massachusettes
Who dies from too much whiskey, and leaves me these three faces to feed.
Millwork ain't easy, millwork ain't hard
Millworkin', it ain't nothin' but an awful borin' job
I'm waitin' for a daydream to take me through the mornin'
And put me in my coffee break, where I can have a sandwich, and remember.
Then it's me and my machine for the rest of the mornin'
And the rest of the afternoon, for the rest of my life.
Now as my mind begins to wander to the days back on the farm
I can see my father smilin' at me swingin' on his arm
I can hear my granddad's stories, all the storms are on Lake Eerie
With vessels and cargo and fortunes, and sailors lives were lost.
Yes but it's my life has been wasted, and I have played the fool
To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool
I can ride home in the evenin', starin' at my hands
Swearin' by my sorrow that a young girl ought to stand a better chance.
May I work the mills just as long as I am able
And never meet the man who's name is on the label
And it be me and my machine for the rest of the mornin'
And the rest of the afternoon, for the rest of my life.
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