My very close friend, Woody Brison, is working on a song with this same starting idea. Peekin' over his shoulder,

Well my name is not important
I come from that steel makin' town
Yes'm and you see, it's mainly 'cause of me
They make the finest steel around

A steel mill ain't for sissies
This one's killed a hundred and five
Five men died of sheer exhaustion
And a hundred got burned alive

Well, I haven't exactly lived well
Life hasn't zackly been kind
And when I see, the boss's limosine
(I tend to) say some words that come to mind

It's a great big operation
The bosses can act pretty smug
The heat and the danger and the killer workload
Will crush a man just like a bug

The bosses makin' all the money
The workers doin' all the work
They won't lift a finger to help a poor man up
his cries for help go unheard

I finished my work one mornin'
And made way on home
And I found my place was empty
My wife had left me all alone

If you're thinkin of hirin on the steel mill
There's somethin you otta know
the crushin workload and danger's killin workers
whether it be fast or slow

Working that steel mill all night long
Yes I prefer that graveyard shift
It's closest in the world to where I'm goin'
If. you. get. my drift

Woody sez if any of you want to put a tune to this and perform it in a gig, have at it