I was born in the corn fields of KentuckynI moved north in '73nThe war was still going strong so I found a jobnRolling steel in a foundry in HomesteadnnI worked beside a guy named GryzbowskinWho taught me how to keep safenHe said there's many a man who lost the fingers from their handsnYou could wind up crippled or dead in HomesteadnnAnd the steel glowed in the white hot chambersnThe furnace spit fire and smokenAnd the sunlight came through the cracks in the roofnThe dust was so thick you could chokennI heard all the old stories about the twelve hour shifts in the millnAnd the union brothers the Pinkertons tried hard to killnHeard about Frick and Carnegie the day the river ran rednHow the union caved in, in HomesteadnnIt was more than a job it was my familynI got married, settled down, bought a homenAnd in the bars down the street, in the late summer heatnYou never had to feel alonennI got work tearin' those old mills downnUntil there's nothing left but the sweat and blood in the groundnAt night we tuck our little babies in bednWe still pray to the red, white and blue in HomesteadnI'm still livin' in Homestead