Cotton Mill Man

I was born in the shadow
Of a cotton mill smokestack
Down in Alabama's bottom land

Where my grand-pappy broke his back
Pulling on a cotton sack
To raise my Pa to be a cotton mill man

I've got lots of memories
Of government commodities
When all our meat came in a can

While the boss-man on the hill
Bought his steak and ate his fill
And called upon to clean his grill
A cotton mill man

Lord, don't let my son grow up
To be a sweaty cotton mill man

I grew up in the gloom
Of a cotton mill weave room
With weaver's glue and callouses
All over my hands

I didn't have a honeymoon
I couldn't leave my cotton loom
I swore my son would never be
A cotton mill man

I watched my woman cry
When our baby daughter died
I couldn't make her understand
Why a doctor never came

The lack of money was to blame
And I cussed the day that I became
A cotton mill man

Lord, don't let my son grow up
To be a sweaty cotton mill man

The company taught us all the rules
On how to work with spinning spools
So the bosses' son could
Drive a big black Sedan

The company owned the houses
And the company owned the grammar school
You'll never see an educated cotton mill man
They figure you don't need to learn
Anything but how to earn

The money that you pay upon demand
To the general store they own
Or else they'll take away your home
And give it to some other homeless
Cotton mill man

Lord, don't let my son grow up
To be a sweaty cotton mill man
Lord, don't let my son grow up
To be a sweaty cotton mill man