- cifra
Well, I lived in a town
Way down south
By the name of Owensboro
And I worked in a mill
With the rest of the "trash"
As we're often called
As you know
Well, we rise up early
In the morning
And we work all day real hard
To buy our little meat and bread
Buy sugar, tea, and lard
Well, our children
Grow up unlearned
With no time to go to school
Almost before they learn to walk
They learn to spin and spoon
Well, the folks in town
They dress so fine
And spend their money free
But they would hardly look
At a factory hand
Who dresses like you or me
Would you let them wear
Their watches fine
Let them wear their gems
And pearly strings
But when that day
Of judgement comes
They'll have to share
Their pretty things
