Tác giả : Barclay James Harvest, The
Người đăng : administrator, 14 năm trước
Sky was black, lord, rain came pouring down 
Number 12 bus shuffling down shaw road way 
Mules keep spinning, black-faced lifers peck the ground 
Sun comes up like lightning over tandle hills grey 
We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys 
Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day 
We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys 
Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day 
 
 
Cotton mill will get you, boy, she'll take you to your grave 
Tell you boy to use your head, apprentice out your days 
You'll end up a nothing, buy, with cotton as your trade 
Sun comes up like lightning over tandle hills grey 
 
We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys 
Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day 
We are mill boys, stuck on the hill boys 
Stuck in the mill boys, 'till our dying day 
 
 
It's easy to see a poor boy's blues 
When he's working every day 
It's harder to be there in his shoes 
He was born to be that way