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