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    BETTE MIDLER

    Thighs And Whispers 1979 ©

    Millworker

    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 died from too much whiskey
    and leaves me these three faces to feed.

    Millwork ain't easy, millwork ain't hard.
    Millwork, it ain't nothin'
    but an awful, boring job.
    I'm waiting for a daydream
    to take me through the mornin';
    Put me in my coffee break
    where I can have a sandwhich and remember.

    And it's me and my machine
    for the rest of the mornin',
    for the rest of the afternoon,
    for the rest of my life.

    Now my mind begins to wander
    to the days back on the farm.
    I can see my father smilin'
    and me swingin' on his arm.

    I can hear my granddad's stories
    of the storms out on Lake Erie,
    where vessels and cargos
    and fortunes and sailor's lives were lost.

    Yeah, but it's my life that's been wasted.
    And I have been the fool
    to let this manufacture
    use my body for a tool.
    As I ride home in the evenin'
    I'm staring at my hands,
    swearin' by my sorrow
    that a young girl ought to stand a better chance.

    Oh, but may I work the mills
    just as long as I'm able,
    and never meet the man
    who's name is on the label.

    Whoa, it's me and my machine
    for the rest of the mornin',
    for the rest of the afternoon,
    for the rest of my life . . . wasted.

    1979 ©




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BETTE MIDLER Millworker lyrics 15697 songs