The Mill Worker
(James Taylor)
My grandfather was a sailor, he blew in 'cross the water
My daddy was a farmer, and I his only daughter
I took up with a no-good mill-working man from Massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey and leaves me these three faces to feed
Mill work ain't easy and mill work ain't hard
Mill work ain't nothing but an awful boring job
So I'm waiting for a daydream to take me through the morning
And get me to my coffee break where I can have a sandwich and remember
It's me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
The rest of the afternoon gone
For the rest of my life
My mind begins to wander to my days back on the farm
And I can see my daddy smilin' at me swingin' on his arms
I can hear my granddad's stories of storms out on Lake Erie
Where vessels and cargoes and fortunes and sailors' lives were lost
But it's my life has been wasted, and I have been the fool
To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool
And I ride home in the evening and I stare down at my hands
And I swear by my sorrow that a young girl ought to stand a better chance
And it's me I'll work the mill just as long as I am able
But may I never meet the man whose name is on the label
And it's me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
The rest of the afternoon gone
For the rest of my life
@work @mill @women
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