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 from
Who died from too much
And leaves me these three to feed.

Millwork ain't easy, ain't hard.
Millwork, it nothin'
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 my granddad's stories
Of the storms out on erie,
Where vessels and
And and sailor's lives were lost.

Yeah, but it's, my has been wasted.
And I have 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 ought to stand a better 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 of my life . . . wasted.