Grand Dad was a sailor who flew in off the water
My father was a farmer and I his only daughter
I took off with a no good no working man from Massachusetts
Who died from too much whisky and leaves me these three faces to feed

Mill work ain't easy, mill work ain't hard
Mill work most often is an awful boring hellish job
I'm waiting for a day dream to take me through the morning
Put me in my coffee break where 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 the days back on the farm
And I see my father smiling me swinging in his arms
I can hear my Grand Dad's stories bout the storms out on Lake Eerie
Where vessels and cargoes and fortunes and sailors' lives were lost

It's my life that's been wasted, I have been a fool
To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool
But I get to ride home in the evening staring at my hands
Swearing by my sorrows that a young girl ought to stand a better chance

May I work this mill just as long as I am able
Never meet the man who's name is on the label
It's me and my machine for the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon and the rest of my life