The Idiot - Seth Staton Watkins
Composed by：Stan Rogers
I often take these night shift walks
When the foreman's not around
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 no sound
I forget the stink and I always think
Back to that Eastern town
I remember back six years ago
This western life I chose
And every day the news would say
Some factory's going to close
Well I could have stayed to take the dole
But I'm not one of those
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 like cowboy 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 the ground
This western life's no paradise
But it's better than lying down
Oh the streets aren't clean and there's nothing green
And the hills are dirty brown
But the government dole will rot your soul
Back there in your home town
So I bid farewell to the Eastern town
I never more will see
There's self-respect and a steady cheque
In this refinery
Oh you will miss the green
And the woods and streams
And the dust will fill your nose
But you'll be free and that makes me
An idiot I suppose
This are the word's I tell myself
When I miss my old home town
I tell myself that I'm doing right
By turning not well fell town
But now I see for you and me
That I want those word's on streams
For I oh my life to this worker's strip
Why can't I just be free
