Let Them Wear Their Watches Fine

I lived in a town way down south
By the name of Buffalo
Worked in the mill with the rest of the trash
As we're often called you know

You factory folks who sing this rhyme
Will surely understand
The reason why I love you so
Is I'm a factory hand

While standing here between my looms
You know I lose no time
To keep my shuttles in a whizz
And write this little rhyme

We rise up early in the morn'
And work all day real hard
To buy our little meat and bread
And sugar, tea and lard

We work from weekend to weekend
And never lose a day
And when that awful payday comes
We draw our little pay

We then go home on payday night
And sit down in a chair
The merchant raps upon the door
He's come to get his share

When all our little debts are paid
And nothing left behind
We turn our pockets wrong-side out
But not a cent can we find

We rise up early in the morn'
And toil from soon to late
We have no time to primp or fix
And dress right up to date

Our children they grow up unlearned
No time to go to school
Almost before they have learned to walk
They have learned to spin or spool

The bossman jerks them round and round
And whistles very keen
I'll tell you what the factory kids
Are really treated mean

The folks in town who dress so fine
And spend their money free
Will hardly look at a factory hand
Who dresses like you and me

As we go walking down the street
All wrapped in lint and strings
They call us fools and factory trash
And other lowdown things

Well let them wear their watches fine
Their rings and pearly strings
When the day of judgement comes
We'll make 'em shed their pretty things