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

Millworking man from Massachusetts

Who died from too much whiskey

And leaves me these three faces to feed

Millwork ain't easy millwork ain't hard

Millwork it ain't nothin'

But an awful boring job

I'm waiting for a daydream

To take me through the mornin';

Put me in my coffee break

Where I can have a sandwhich and remember

And it's me and my machine

For the rest of the mornin'

For the rest of the afternoon

For the rest of my life

Now my mind begins to wander

To the days back on the farm

I can see my father smilin'

And me swingin' on his arm

I can hear my granddad's stories

Of the storms out on Lake Erie

Where vessels and cargos

And fortunes and sailor's lives were lost

Yeah but it's my life that's been wasted

And I have been the fool

To let this manufacture

Use my body for a tool

As I ride home in the evenin'

I'm staring at my hands

Swearin' by my sorrow

That a young girl ought to stand a better chance

Oh but may I work the mills

Just as long as I'm able

And never meet the man

Who's name is on the label

Whoa it's me and my machine

For the rest of the mornin'

For the rest of the afternoon

For the rest of my life