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First time played on: 06/02/2006

Latest time played on: 06/02/2006


My grandfather was a sailor, he blew in off the water
My father was a farmer, and I his only daughter
I took up with a no-good millworking man from Massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey, and leaves me these three faces to feed

Now millwork it ain't easy, millwork it ain't hard
Millwork it ain't nothin', but a boring ??? job
I'm waitin on my daydream to take me through the mornin'
And put me in my coffe break where I can eat my sandwich, and remember

That it's me and my machine for the rest of the morning
And 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 daddy smiling, I can feel myself swinging on his arm
I hear my grandpop's stories of the storms out on Lake Erie
Where vessels and cargos and fortunes and the lives of young sailors were lost

Yeah but it's me, it's my life's been wasted, and I have been the fool
To let this manifacturer use my body for a tool
I'll ride home in the evening staring at my hands
Swearing to my sorrow that a young girl ought to stand a better chance

So I may work your mills just as long as I am able
Oh I'll never meet the man whose name is on the label

Still it's me and my machine for the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon, and on and on, for the rest of my life


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