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Frank Cable-mills-Blue Guitar gallery-070811

Orionstarband on November 24, 2011 17:36

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    Frank Cable- You lift me up ( Unfinshed) at Harlem, NYC

    Brasilia beat

    Sounds from Wednesday morning

    Sounds from Monday morning

    Sounds from Sunday morning

    View all

    Harmonica: G, Capo: 7th

    Harmonica intro

    Refrain

    My old man
    and his old man
    and his old man still
    worked in the mills
    and factories of Lawrence.

    On the Merrimack River
    where the water color changed
    depending on
    the color of the uniform.

    Since the turn of the century
    the din of the factory
    has drowned….

    Drowned in sounds of war
    drowned in sounds of war.

    Harmonica fill

    In the dusty morning hour
    he took a lunch pail from the table
    and he walked down to the river
    cause he was wiling and able.

    Until he got to drinking
    and turned his back upon the family.
    Then my father took his place there
    He was only 14…

    When he went to the factory
    to a world of broken dreams
    of soot and steam.
    He walked down to the factory
    See he was only just 14.

    He was a bright but unread boy
    who dreamed of doing better things
    than stitching soldiers britches
    so he left when he was 17.

    Legs as fast as lightening
    he had a good hand on the trigger
    so they shipped him overseas
    to do a tour in Korea

    He was a soldier at 19
    spit shine polished Marine
    sharpest thing you’d ever seen
    a killer at 19.

    Harmonica fill

    Now he and mom were married
    and stationed in Morocco.
    Colleen and I were born there
    then we moved to San Diego.

    Outside that Aircraft carrier
    he took me in his arms
    and he gave me one last kiss
    as he left for Vietnam

    The war in Vietnam
    Agent orange and Napalm
    Burned their homes,
    burned their farms
    Man, we did those people harm.

    Refrain

    My old man
    has two legs of sand
    Agent Orange fills his veins
    in a nursing home in Maine

    Yet he’s still running up that hill
    running home from the Mill.
    The dinner bell ringing
    from his momma’s front porch

    And there’s a man like me
    crying overseas
    wishing for a father
    that was taken long ago.

    What could have been he’ll never know
    So what have we to show?
    Except generations full of sorrow.

    My old man
    and his old man
    and his old man still
    worked in the mills
    and factories of Lawrence.

    Where the water color changed
    depending on
    the color of the uniform.

    Since the turn of the century
    the din of the factory
    has all but drowned in sounds of war
    But, please tell me what for?

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