Cotton Mill
Old Cotton Mill
Great industry of the South
You are only a shell
An empty vessel of the past
Walls that once contained
Equipment of the last, great revolution
Are now piles of crumbling bricks
Men and women sort through decay
Trying to salvage your remnants
One board, one stone
Something to mark your existence
Your mighty smokestacks
Welcoming pillars that once stood
Like two great arms
Were scattered like dust
Hauled away in trucks
To stand guard no more
You were once a mighty leader
A town bowed down to you
Depended on you to meet need
Your name rose above this town
Towering letters against the horizon
That marked your presence
But then the winds came
A monument crumpled by the finger of God
Irony some would say
People shake their heads
Refuse to admit that your glory
Now belongs to the past
And the town weeps for you
Old Cotton Mill
Great industry of the South.
