Luyện nghe bài hát Milworker

Now my was a sailor.
He in off the water.
My was a farmer
And I his daughter.

Took up a no good
Millworking man from
Who died too much whiskey
And me these three faces to feed.

Millwork ain't easy, ain't hard.
Millwork, it nothin'
But an awful, job.
I'm for a daydream
To take me through the
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 begins to wander
To the back on the farm.
I can see my father
And me on his arm.

I can my granddad's stories
Of the storms out on erie,
Where and cargos
And fortunes and sailor's lives lost.

Yeah, but it's, my has been wasted.
And I have the fool
To let manufacture
Use my for a tool.
As I ride in the evenin'
I'm at my hands,
Swearin' by my
That a young girl ought to a better chance.

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

Whoa, me and my machine
For the of the mornin',
For the of the afternoon,
For the rest of my . . . wasted.