The Cement Plant in Alpena was a grey and ugly mass
At the far north of town where most people would not pass

There were three shifts so that the labor never ceased
Great Lakes ships stopped by to feed upon that beast

Huge rotating kilns were used to heat the limestone
My father’s workplace, where lung disease was well known

His lungs were coated with the crud from that miasmic space
Those kinds of situations were for workers commonplace

The union men who organized to improve the plant’s condition
Lost their jobs as a reward for their troublesome ambition 

How many kids like me were stranded by their father’s death
How many weep as I do remembering his struggle for a breath