Another 'THE FACTORY GIRL'

No more shall I work in the factory, greasy up my clothes;
No more shall I work in the factory, with 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 bosses say, "Boys, you'd better daulf."
No more shall I hear those bosses say, "Spinners, you'd better clean off."

No more shall I hear the drummer wheels a-rollin' over my head.
When factories 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 proud.
For I know I'll marry a country boy, before the year is out.

Blank lines added between verses. --JoeClone, 12-Feb-02.