Mill Worker - Barbara Dane

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