Standard (EADGBE)
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
Mill-work ain't easy; mill-work ain't hard
Mill-work, it ain't nothing but an awful boring job
I'm waiting for a day dream to take me through the morning
and put me in my coffee break where I can have a sandwich and remember
(addD) /
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, swingin' on his arm
I can hear my grand-dad's stories of the storms out on Lake Erie
where vessels and cargos and fortunes and sailor's lives were lost
Yes, but it's my life has been wasted, and I have been the fool
to let this manufacture 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
(addD) /
So may I work the mills just as long as I am able
and never meet the man whose name is on the label
(addD) /
It be me and my machine for the rest of the morning
for the rest of the afternoon
and the rest of my life
/: x2x03x
/: x1x03x