North Country Blues - Bob Dylan
    Come and gather round friends and I'll tell you a tale

    Of when the red iron ore pits run a-plenty
    But the cardboard filled windows and old men on the benches
    Tell ya now that the whole town is empty

    In the north end of town my own children are grown
    But I was raised on the other
    In the wee hours of youth my mother took sick
    And I was brought up by my brother

    The iron ore poured as the years passed the door
    The drag lines and shovels, they was hummin'
    'Til one day my brother failed to come home
    The same as my father before him

    With a long winters wait from the window I watched
    My friends, they couldn't have been kinder
    And my school it was cut as I quit in the spring
    To marry John Thomas, a miner
    Oh the years passed again and the giving was good
    With a lunch bucket filled every season
    But with three babies born, the work was cut down
    To half a day's shift with no reason

    An' the shaft was soon shut and my work was cut
    And the fire in the air, it felt frozen
    'Til a man come to speak and he said in one week
    That number eleven was closing

    They complain in the east they payin' to high
    They say that your ore ain't worth diggin'
    That it's much cheaper down in the South American towns
    Where the miners work almost for nothin'

    So the minin' gates locked and the red iron rotted
    And the room smelled heavy from drinkin'
    When the sad silent song made the hour twice as long
    As I waited for the sun to go sinking

    I lived by the window as he talked to himself
    The silence of tongues, it was building
    'Til one morning's wake, the bed it was bare
    And I's left alone with three children

    The summer is gone, the ground's turning cold
    The stores one by one they are folding
    My children will go as soon as they grow
    For there ain't nothin' here now to hold them


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words