Homestead Town

Homestead Town, Homestead town, used to the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and steelworkers were around.
Pilgrims came and settled to work a pot of gold,
From the iron and the fire in the days of old.
A place full of churches and watering holes;
A boilermaker and Jesus to sooth their souls.

Homestead town, Homestead town, used to be the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and the smoke was all around.
Road signs pointing to you from everywhere;
You were the forge of the universe, the belly of the bear.
Streets full of people in the middle of the night;
Days gray and dark when the furnace was alive.

Homestead town, Homestead town, used to be the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and the money was around.
From the top of ‘Hunky Hill’, down to First Avenue,
Everybody had the good jobs that you knew.
Men and women making steel, working overtime,
To win the big war from behind the line.

Homestead town, Homestead town, used to be the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and the Union was around.
Taking on the Pinkertons and Frick and Carnegie;
Capturing a moment that was making history
Workers at the end tryin’ to keep the place alive;
Preachers of the faith in the middle of the fight.

Homestead town, Homestead town, used to be the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and good jobs were still around.
History gone with the ‘hole-in-the-wall,’
Buildings sitting empty in the shadow of the mall.
Spirits of the workers buried down below;
Destiny asleep where the whistle once blowed.

Homestead town, Homestead town, used to be the story of a glory boom town.
Homestead town, Homestead town, when the mill was there and steelworkers were around.

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Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, July, 1992[revised September, 2003]