| The scaffolder’s wife
|
| driving out of the yard
|
| with a face that’s as hard
|
| as a scaffolder’s bar —
|
| when she goes into town
|
| she might take the top down
|
| on the car.
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| The quick little steps
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| in the stiletto boots
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| and the hair with the roots.
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| She comes in as a rule
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| to get the nails done
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| and the tan for the sun
|
| when the kids are in school.
|
| Don’t begrudge her the Merc
|
| it’s been nothing but work
|
| and a hard life.
|
| Losing her looks
|
| over company books
|
| — the scaffolder’s wife.
|
| In the wicked old days
|
| when they went it alone
|
| kept the company going
|
| on a wing and a prayer.
|
| They don’t pay that they owe
|
| when they have the cash flow
|
| — they don’t care
|
| Don’t begrudge her the Merc
|
| it’s been nothing but work
|
| and a hard life.
|
| Losing her looks
|
| over company books
|
| — the scaffolder’s wife. |