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