Luyện nghe bài hát Millworker

(James Taylor)

Now my was a sailor,
He in off the water
My was a farmer
I, his daughter,
up with a no-good millworking man from Massachusetts
Who dies too much whiskey
And leaves me these faces to feed

Millwork ain't easy; mill-work ain't
Millwork, it ain't nothing but an awful job
I'm waiting for a day
To take me through the
And put me in my coffee
Where I can have a sandwich and

Then me and my machine
For the rest of the
For the rest of the
And the rest of my

Now my begins to wander
To the back on the farm
I can see my father at me,
on his arm
I can hear my grand-dad's
Of the storms out on Erie
Where vessels and and fortunes
And sailor's were lost

Yes, but it's my has been wasted,
And I have been the
To let this use my body for a tool.
I can home in the evening,
Staring at my
Swearing by my that a young girl
to stand a better chance

So may I the mills
Just as long as I am
And never meet the man
Name is on the

It be me and my
For the of the morning
For the of the afternoon
And the rest of my