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