In the north end of town, at the foot of the hill
Stands a chimney so tall, that says Aragon Mill
But there's no smoke at all, coming out of the stack
Cause the mill has pulled out, and it ain't coming back
And the only sound I hear, is the cry of the wind
As it blows through the town, weave and spin weave and spin
There's no children at all, in the narrow empty street
Since the looms have shut down, it's so quiet I can't sleep
And I'm too old to leave, and I'm too young to die
And there's no place to go, for my old man and I
And the only sound I hear, is the cry of the wind
As it blows through the street, weave and spin weave and spin
And the only sound I hear, is the cry of the wind
As it blows through the town, weave and spin weave and spin.