Der komplette Text:
(The Sewing Machine Song
from the album 'Ghosts of Dreams'
released July 1, 1997 by TR Kelley
lyrics: )
I came off the assembly line in 1899
paid for by a farmer's wife
three dollars at a time
shipped out to western Oregon
where the land was rich and green
shiny, strong and ready to work,
a new Singer sewing machine
her feet were quick upon my treadle
she made my needle fly
she shined me and she oiled me
said i was her pride
she made trousers for her husband,
clothes for little girls and boys
and the whirring of the my big flywheel
was a welcome joyful noise
she gave me to her daughter
when that girl became a wife
and i was with her 50 years
'til the end of her good life
my paint was worn but my
was strong
my stitches straight and fine
i was sold at county auction in 1969
the auctioneer was a fine old man
he handled me with pride
said his mother had one just like me
that i had no flaws to hide
we'll start the bidding
gather round you all know the routine
who'll give me fifty dollars
for this Singer sewing machine
no hands were raised no bids were drawn
the crowd was looking bored
by an old black treadle stitcher
whose paint and wood were worn
no fancy stitches, no built-in
, no electricity
and people just don't sew much now
they get their clothes from factories
but one man made a bid that day
5 dollars was his price
and no one counter-offered
though the auctioneer asked twice
he jammed me in a long tin shed
with others just like me
rows and rows of obsolete
black Singer sewing machines
he tore apart my treadle works
added a motor and a
no more gentle rhythms
i worked full speed day and night
run by scared young women
a long long way from home
stitch the same seam a thousand times a day
work their fingers to the bone.
the joy went out of living
to be used this a-way
to feel their desperation
to run hard every day
so i jammed myself i would not turn
he cursed and raged and swore
ripped me from my table
and dropped me on the floor
stripped off the motor and the
and carried me outside
to the junk heap in the alley
where he threw me on my side
months passed and i began to rust
some mice lived in my works
i knew my life was over
after ninety years on earth
till one day someone found me
forgotten and alone
the way she touched my rusty wheel
i knew i'd found a home
she hauled me to her cabin
in a funky neighborhood
where simple living's valued
and i'd be loved and understood
she put me in a treadle stand
coaxed my wheel to turn
i felt her joy and caring
her interest and concern
she cleaned me and she oiled me
showed me off to all her friends
repaired the hurts of years of use
and made me sew again.
now the sun warms my shiny ironwork
a cat naps on my stand
but i'm threaded up and ready
fabric basket close at hand
in the quiet of the evening
when the little house is clean
she makes clothing for her babies
on this Singer Sewing Machine
she's smiling as she's sewing
a little dress of velveteen
on a piece of living history,
an old Singer sewing machine.
(Rührung)