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The Journeyman

His neck is dark leather

His face hard and wind blown

Asking not for the age on his body

For he feels more years than he’s known

He recalls much work of the past

The money and times he once made

Living each day as his last

For this be the way of his trade

He knows thousand-mile weeks he once traveled

And storm work forty hours straight

Many stories he tells, of the good times, the hell

Speak of linework, for its’ guided his fate

He’s seen countless men come and go

For them it wasn’t the way

Only two cant’s this journeyman knows

If you cant cut it, you surely cant stay

A breed apart and above stands the lineman

Hardworking men in a job unforgiving

With his hooks tools and belt

What a damn fine way to make a living

Luke Moore - Lineman

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