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Sky was black, lord, rain came pouring down |
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Number 12 bus shuffling down shaw road way |
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Mules keep spinning, black-faced lifers peck the ground |
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Sun comes up like lightning over tandle hills grey |
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We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys |
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Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day |
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We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys |
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Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day |
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Cotton mill will get you, boy, she'll take you to your grave |
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Tell you boy to use your head, apprentice out your days |
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You'll end up a nothing, buy, with cotton as your trade |
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Sun comes up like lightning over tandle hills grey |
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We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys |
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Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day |
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We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys |
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Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day |
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It's easy to see a poor boy's blues |
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When he's working every day |
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It's harder to be there in his shoes |
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He was born to be that way |
