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 with a no
Millworking man massachusetts
Who died too much whiskey
And me these three faces to feed.

Millwork ain't easy, millwork hard.
Millwork, it ain't
But an awful, job.
I'm waiting for a
To take me through the
Put me in my break
Where I can have a and remember.

And it's me and my
For the of the mornin',
For the of the afternoon,
For the of my life.

Now my begins to wander
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,
vessels and cargos
And fortunes and sailor's were lost.

Yeah, but it's, my has been wasted.
And I been the fool
To let this
Use my for a tool.
As I ride home in the
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.