| Standing on the floor in the «City of the Spindles»
|
| Got me a job, lift me up to the middle
|
| The Offering painted a very pretty
|
| picture
|
| Work at the mills held a promise of the Scripture
|
| But a girl like me was worked to the
|
| bone
|
| Our fingers bled and our bodies
|
| moaned
|
| Fourteen hours a day and then
|
| My paycheck was half that of the men
|
| Looking down with oppressions face
|
| That pile of money they steal and
|
| waste
|
| Then they said they would have to cut our
|
| pay
|
| So we broke our cage and formed the
|
| FLRA
|
| They said what a waste of a pretty
|
| girl
|
| To let the labor flag unfurl
|
| I said what more can you take from
|
| me?
|
| I own my hands and my dignity
|
| So pass me a match and we will strike
|
| it on the ground
|
| And we will head back down to Boston
|
| town
|
| We could start a fire and they will never
|
| put it out
|
| And we will head back down to Boston
|
| town
|
| They said what a waste of a pretty
|
| girl
|
| To let the labor flag unfurl
|
| I said what more can you take from
|
| me?
|
| I own my hands and my dignity
|
| So pass me the match and we will
|
| strike it on the ground
|
| And we will head back down to Boston
|
| town
|
| We could start a fire and they will never
|
| put it out
|
| And we will head back down to Boston
|
| town |