Locally, there's a song called "Mohawk Mill,” about the huge carpet mills that once inhabited and employed 3 out of 4 people in Amsterdam, NY (where I live now). In 1968 the mills all closed and moved south. Here are the lyrics of "Mohawk Mill.”

At the east end of town, at the foot of the hill,
There’s a chimney so tall, it's called Mohawk Mill
But there's no smoke at all coming out of the stack
For the mill has shut down and it's never coming back.

The mill has shut down; it’s the only life I know
Tell what will I do, tell me where will I go
I’m too old to work and too young to die
Tell me what will we do, my family and I.

My children have grown and moved far away
There’s one in Chicago, and another in LA
No cards in the mail, no calls on the phone
They’d sooner forget this place was once their home.

As I sit on my porch and watch the time pass by
Tell me what's left to do for my old wife and I.
There's houses for sale all up and down my street,
They’ve all given up, couldn't make both ends meet.

At the east end of town at the foot of the hill
There’s a chimney so tall, it's called Mohawk Mill.
But there's no smoke at all coming out of the stack,
For the mill has shut down and it's never coming back.

And the only sound I hear is the cry of the wind
As it blows through the town, weave and spin, weave and spin.

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 20-Mar-02.