The engines keep on turning, the furnaces keep burning,
The hammers keep on pounding and the sparks fly to the floor,
The bosses keep on talking, the typists keep on walking,
Walking into my dreams and out the washroom door.
I had a girl in Nashville, Belinda was her name.
She's prettier than these northern girls, she puts them all to shame.
My father say's she dating with a guy from Memphis way.
No plans to marry yet, that's what the parents say.
Working on the line is a nightmare come to life,
Like a steam train on a fast bend or a butcher with a knife.
I don't know who to turn to, I don't know who to trust,
My good thoughts have all left me like diamonds in the dust.
The chargehand who's a sadist says 'your output's down today'.
I tell him that I'm trying but he just won't go away.
He pats me on the shoulder, 'This ain't your lucky day',
'Try a little harder or your won't get no pay'.
All my thoughts are turning to the farm in Tennessee,
Where my father's got a hired hand and he wishes it were me.
I'm too proud to work for him and he's too proud to ask,
So I put on my overalls and pull down my mask.
I'm a farmer in my heart, a welder by my trade,
Joining bits of metal so more engines can be made.
All my thoughts are turning to the farm in Tennessee,
Where my father's got a hired hand and I wish that it were me.