At the east end of town At the foot of a hill
There’s a chimney so tall That says “Aragon Mill”
But there’s no smoke at all Comin’ out of the stack
For the mill has pulled out And they ain’t comin’ back
And the only sound I hear is the sound of the wind
As it blows through the town, weave and spin, weave and spin.
There’s no children at all In the narrow, empty streets
Since the looms have all gone It’s so quiet I can’t sleep.
Now I’m too old to change And I’m too young to die
And there’s no place to go For my woman and I.
Now the mill has closed down It’s the only sound I know
Tell me where will I go? Tell me where will I go?