Oh I love to get into my clean bed With its sheets so fair and white, And when I am in my clean bed, I sleep thru most the night, And my dreams are hardly troubled By the worrying of my mind For the workers who die of the brown lung In the mills of Caroline. Chorus: Oh the mystical people, they think they are wise, With the smooth on their faces and stars in their eyes, But the truths of this system are spoken and sung By the workers who bear the brown lung. Oh it's Burlington and Cannon And the names we wives know well, Who advertise the sheets and towels And give us the old soft sell, And they'd rather buy the government men With promotions here and there, Than pay out company profits For to clean the cotton mill air. (Chorus) Oh some people talk of the yin and yang And walk in a kharma daze, As though the influence of the stars Could change mill owners ways, But the people who work in the cotton mills They know how the world is run, And they need some help of an earthly kind To live their time in the sun. (Chorus) Oh the mystics they wear the blue jeans But their heads are in the stars, For they do not know how the denim is made Nor the years of workers' wars. And my place is not in an ivory tower Or seeking some power divine, But it's out on the bricks with the union folks At the mills in Caroline. (Chorus)