Foreman of the Mill

Tall was the bottle in the glove box
Long were the days for the foreman of the mill
He was twice as mean when he drank the kerosene
And when the break whistle blew
He'd take it out on me
Long were the days for the foreman of the mill

Cold was the floor in the break room
Red was the face of the foreman of the mill
And whеn he'd had his way
I'd go back up on the crane
And bitе the long blue collar of my family name
Red was the face of the foreman of the mill

Bright was the iron in the cauldron
Dark was the day of the foreman of the mill
And as I pushed him in
Lord, the devil did grin
And every car in Detroit took a piece of him
Gone are the days of the foreman of the mill