Millworker

Grand Dad was a sailor who flew in off the water My father was a farmer and I his only daughter I took off with a no good no working man from Massachusetts Who died from too much whisky and leaves me these three faces to feed Mill work ain't easy, mill work ain't hard Mill work most often is an awful boring hellish job I'm waiting for a day dream to take me through the morning Put me in my coffee break where I can have my sandwich and remember It's me and my machine for the rest of the morning For the rest of the afternoon and the rest of my life My mind begins to wander to the days back on the farm And I see my father smiling me swinging in his arms I can hear my Grand Dad's stories bout the storms out on Lake Eerie Where vessels and cargoes and fortunes and sailors' lives were lost It's my life that's been wasted, I have been a fool To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool But I get to ride home in the evening staring at my hands Swearing by my sorrows that a young girl ought to stand a better chance May I work this mill just as long as I am able Never meet the man who's name is on the label It's me and my machine for the rest of the morning For the rest of the afternoon and the rest of my life