Milworker Lyrics - Bette Midler

Now my grandfather was a sailor. 

He blew in off the water. 

My father was a farmer 

And I his only daughter. 

Took up with a no good 

Millworking man from massachusetts 

Who died from too much whiskey 

And leaves me these three faces to feed. 

Millwork ain't easy, millwork ain't hard. 

Millwork, it ain't nothin' 

But an awful, boring job. 

I'm waiting for a daydream 

To take me through the mornin'; 

Put me in my coffee break 

Where I can have a sandwhich and remember. 

And it's me and my machine 

For the rest of the mornin', 

For the rest of the afternoon, 

For the rest of my life. 

Now my mind begins to wander 

To the days back on the farm. 

I can see my father smilin' 

And me swingin' on his arm. 

I can hear my granddad's stories 

Of the storms out on lake erie, 

Where vessels and cargos 

And fortunes and sailor's lives were lost. 

Yeah, but it's, my life has been wasted. 

And I have been the fool 

To let this manufacture 

Use my body for a tool. 

As I ride home in the evenin' 

I'm staring at my hands, 

Swearin' by my sorrow 

That a young girl ought to stand a better chance. 

Oh, but may I work the mills 

Just as long as I'm able, 

And never meet the man 

Who's name is on the label. 

Whoa, it's me and my machine 

For the rest of the mornin', 

For the rest of the afternoon, 

For the rest of my life . . . wasted.