Luyện nghe bài hát Millworker

Now my was a sailor.
He in off the water.
My father was a
and I his daughter.

Took up a no good
millworking man from
who died too much whiskey
and leaves me these faces to feed.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, but may I the mills
as long as I'm able,
and meet the man
name is on the label.

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