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James Taylor

"Millworker" (karaoke)

"Millworker" (sheet music)


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 mill workingman

From Massachusetts

Who dies from too much whisky

And leaves me these three faces to feed.

 

Millwork ain’t easy;

Millwork ain’t hard.

Millwork, it ain’t nothing

But an awful boring job.

I’m waiting for a daydream

To take me through the morning

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 morning,

For the rest of the afternoon,

And the rest of my life.

 

Now, my mind begins to wander

To the days back on the farm.

I can see my father smiling at me

Swinging on his arm.

I can hear my granddad’s stories

Of the storms out on Lake Erie,

Where vessels and cargoes and fortunes

And sailors’ lives were lost.

 

Yes, but it’s my life has been wasted,

And I have been the fool

To let this manufacture use

My body for a tool.

I can ride home in the evening,

Staring at my hands,

Swearing by my sorrow

That a young girl ought to stand

A better chance.

 

So, may I work the mills

Just as long as I am able

And never meet the man

Whose name is on the label.

 

It be me and my machine

For the rest of the morning,

For the rest of the afternoon,

And the rest of my life.


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