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American Ballads and Folk Songs
No more shall I work in the factory With splinters in my toes.
It's pity me, my darling, It's pity me, I say. It's pity me, my darling, And carry me away.
No more shall I hear the bosses say, aBoys, you'd better daulf," No more shall I hear those bosses say, "Spinners, you had better clean off."
No more shall I hear the drummer wheels A-rolling over my headj When factory girls are hard at work, I'll be in my bed.
No more shall I hear the whistle blow To call me up so soonj No more shall I hear the whistle blow To call me from my home.
No more shall I see the super come, All dressed up so finej For I know I'll marry a country boy Before the year is round.
No more shall I wear the old black dress, Greasy all around j
No more shall I wear the old black bonnet, With holes all in the crown.
Come listen awhile, and I'll sing you a song Concerning the times (it will not be long)