Cotton Mill Man (with The Virginia Boys)

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