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 Massachusetts
who died from too whiskey
and me these three faces to feed.

Millwork 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 break
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 mind begins to
to the days on the farm.
I can see my smilin'
and me on his arm.

I can hear my granddad's
of the storms out on Erie,
where 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 to stand a better chance.

Oh, but may I work the
just as as I'm able,
and never 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.