Willy Robbins was a hard workin' fellow
An' each morning he'd kiss his wife twice an' tell her
Oh sweetie I know we're just starting out
But down at work that tower's still being built
And Mr. Taylor I think he told me
Not until that tower's built would he pay me
So Willy picked up his hard hat, gloves and pail
And he combed back his graying hairs
By noon each room would be tidied and clean
By nine Willy would be back in time to eat
Then like many workin' men he'd shower, watch TV
And beside his dear wife he'd fall fast asleep
Yet two weeks passed by an' the check never came
Mr. Taylor holds his initial claim
The building undone, no money to be seen
Willy and his wife with little to eat
The pay week gone, yet it was she who grew tired
The man she married she no longer admired
The house dirty, the heat pipes cough
The jam jars nearly empty, the apples soft
The bedroom dusty, the bedsheets unmade
While Willy sleeps Margaret lies awake
Was it her time to leave, she did contemplate
Each night at the bus depot Willy waits alone
For the no. 35 to take him home
His arms weary, his tongue bound
Like Sisyphus he feels unearthing a rock from the ground
Just to push it up a mountain to watch it roll back down
Willy Robbins was the hardest workin' fellow town
