Milworker lyrics

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 has 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 . . . wasted.
Back to: BETTE MIDLER lyrics