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No More Shall I Work in the Factory No more shall I work in the factory To greasy up my clothes, No more shall I work in the factory With splinters in my toes. cho: It's pity me, my darling, It's pity me, I say, It's pity me, my darling, And carry me away. ( Repeat after each verse) No more shall I hear those Bosses say "Boys, you'd better doff." No more shall I hear those Aossess say "Spinners, you had better clean off" No more shall I hear the drummer wheels A-rolling over my head; 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 soon: 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 fine: 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; No more shall I wear the old black bonnet, With holes all in the crown. From Hard Hitting Songs, Guthrie et al RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!