Millworker - James Taylor

    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 dies from too much whiskey
    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 Eerie
    Where vessels and cargos 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 manufacturer
    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
    And the rest of the afternoon
    Gone for the rest of my life


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words