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Millwork
by
James Taylor
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Grandad was a sailor And 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 died from too much whiskey And leaves me these three faces to feed... Millwork ain't easy Millwork ain't hard Millwork most often is A goddamn awful boring job And I'm waiting for a daydream To take me through the morning And put me in my coffee break So 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 my days back on thе farm And I can see my father smiling at me Swinging on his arm And I can hear my grandad's storiеs Of storms out on Lake Erie Vessels and cargoes Fortunes and sailors' lives were lost It's my life has been wasted And I have been a fool To let this manufacture' Use my body for a tool I ride home in the evenings Staring at my hands Swearing by my sorrow That a young girl ought to stand a better chance... And may I work this mill Just as long as I am able (Long as I am able) And never meet the man Whose name is on the label... It's me and my machine For the rest of the morning For the rest of the afternoon Gone And the rest of my life...
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