The Idiot

I often take these night shift walks when the foreman's notaround.

I turn my back on the cooling stacks and make for open ground.

Far out beyond the tank farm fence where the gas flare makes nosound,

I forget the stink and I always think back to that Easterntown.

I remember back six years ago, this Western life I chose.

And every day, the news would say some factory's going toclose.

Well, I could have stayed to take the Dole, but I'm not one ofthose.

I take nothing free, and that makes me an idiot, I suppose.

So I bid farewell to the Eastern town I never more will see;

But work I must so I eat this dust and breathe refinery.

Oh I miss the green and the woods and streams and I don't likecowboy clothes;

But I like being free and that makes me an idiot I suppose.

So come all you fine young fellows who've been beaten to theground.

This western life's no paaradise, but it's better than lyingdown.

Oh, the streets aren't clean, and there's nothing green, and thehills are dirty brown,

But the government Dole will rot your soul back there in yourhome town.

So bid farewell to the Eastern town you never more will see.

There's self-respect and a steady cheque in this refinery.

You will miss the green and the woods and streams and the dustwill fill your nose.

But you'll be free, and just like me, an idiot, I suppose.