On a lone and windy hilltop   Beneath a roof of tin   In a little wallpapered bedroom   I done my growin'   'Twas there I dreamt my dreams   There I hung my jeans   And wandered through puberty as all do      My mother was a tight knot   Bound up with false guilt   Strapped up in her fearing    Wall she had built   An independent girl    In a dark and cruel world   She'd lost the way to say   "OK, now lay back"      We disagreed on most things   I shouted peace and love   The family of mankind   The symbol of the dove   She only saw the surface    Of things before her face   But I was young and argued on for hours      My father he liked poetry    A scholar he might have made   Had he not born a poor boy    Barefoot and underpaid   So the man worked with his hands    Up and down the land   His dreams forgot    He thought that I must follow      With his marks as worker's wisdom    He'd read a thing or two   He once had been a Mason    But he never followed through   Always kind and thoughtful    Smelling of machine oil   And he read me poetry of visionaries      I flunk my way to college   A looser kind of school   But we bobbed and played time    Arty feeling cool   A chance to live an artist    Diggin' the ravin' scene   Reading Kerouac and Ginsberg well deuced      I was not academic    Art and English neat   The history of mankind   I liked that I did   And what was I to do?    The choices they were few   A down-right disgrace to the working classes   A down-right disgrace to the working classes   A down-right disgrace to the working classes   A down-right disgrace to the working classes