Hamlet Chicken Plant Disaster
๐ต 1298 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:49 duration
๐ ID: 539288
๐ Lyrics
Down in Hamlet, North Carolina
They had a chicken plant,
Sure did explode.
All them Tarheels,
Trapped like burnin rats,
Cause the bossman chained the doors closed.
My mommas born in, a town called Hamlet,
Sleepy little place, on the seaboard line.
And my pawpaw, worked on the railroad.
And my granny, went out her mind.
Built a railroad, it went busted.
Like Richmond County, aint broke enough.
And this yankee, carpet bagger.
Gonna make some money, off Hamlets bad luck.
So we built the brand new, chicken fixin plant.
And it paid that, minimum wage.
But the bossman, said no union.
Or were gonna move this, plant far away.
Merla Johnson, she was late for work.
Heard a thunderin' roar, off the highway.
Musta been Nascar, down in Rockingham.
Or a sign, it was Merla Johnson's judgement day.
Eight fifteen, in the mornin.
Chicken plant, burst into flames.
People, trampled.
Mashed, and burnt up.
Just to keep the profit margin, one iota higher.
Everybody got to work, in this world.
Some people lucky, some folks aint.
But that bastard, chained the doors shut.
I'm gonna rip him, through the pain.
When I was a little boy, with the buzzsaw haircut.
Goin' down to Hamlet, to see the trains.
Now the tourists, stop on the highway.
Take a little look, at the chicken plant workers...
Remains.
IEEEE!
They had a chicken plant,
Sure did explode.
All them Tarheels,
Trapped like burnin rats,
Cause the bossman chained the doors closed.
My mommas born in, a town called Hamlet,
Sleepy little place, on the seaboard line.
And my pawpaw, worked on the railroad.
And my granny, went out her mind.
Built a railroad, it went busted.
Like Richmond County, aint broke enough.
And this yankee, carpet bagger.
Gonna make some money, off Hamlets bad luck.
So we built the brand new, chicken fixin plant.
And it paid that, minimum wage.
But the bossman, said no union.
Or were gonna move this, plant far away.
Merla Johnson, she was late for work.
Heard a thunderin' roar, off the highway.
Musta been Nascar, down in Rockingham.
Or a sign, it was Merla Johnson's judgement day.
Eight fifteen, in the mornin.
Chicken plant, burst into flames.
People, trampled.
Mashed, and burnt up.
Just to keep the profit margin, one iota higher.
Everybody got to work, in this world.
Some people lucky, some folks aint.
But that bastard, chained the doors shut.
I'm gonna rip him, through the pain.
When I was a little boy, with the buzzsaw haircut.
Goin' down to Hamlet, to see the trains.
Now the tourists, stop on the highway.
Take a little look, at the chicken plant workers...
Remains.
IEEEE!