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(The Lowell) Factory Girl
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Young women in the textile mills of Massachusetts died at an average age of 26, constantly inhaling cotton dust, working long hours in unventilated rooms lit by oil lamps.
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"If the great Phil Ochs were to rise from the dead today, he would probably be hailed as the new David Rovics." Andy Kershaw, BBC
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #147
Peak in subgenre #23
Author
Sung by David Rovics
Rights
Written by Anonymous
Uploaded
June 14, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.9 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Young women in the textile mills of Massachusetts died at an average age of 26, constantly inhaling cotton dust, working long hours in unventilated rooms lit by oil lamps. Before their struggles for safer working conditions and better pay bore fruit, often a mill worker's best hope at a decent life was to marry a farmer, if she could find one who hadn't lost his land and ended up as a factory hand himself.
Lyrics
(Author Unknown) No more shall I work in the factory Greasy up my clothes No more shall I work in the factory Splinters in my toes (chorus) Pity me, my darling Pity me, I say Pity me, my darling And carry me away No more shall I hear the drummer wheels Rolling over my head When factories are hard at work I'll be in my bed (chorus> No more shall I hear the bosses say "Boys, you better dauf" No more shall I hear those bosses say "Spinners, you better clean off" (chorus> No more shall I see the super come All dressed up so proud For I know I'll marry a country boy Before the year is out (chorus> No more shall I wear the old black dress Greasy all around No more shall I wear the old black bonnet Holes all in the crown (chorus>
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