Steamin'

When John Millring was a little baby
Sittin’ on his mammy’s knee
He picked up some stoneware and
He slammed it on the wheel and cried,
“Clay is gonna be the death of me, Lord, Lord
Yeah, pottery’ll be the death of me”

Now the captain said to John Millring
“We’re gonna bring a ram press ‘round
I’m gonna bring that ram press
Into the potter’s world
I’m gonna knock out pots -- cheap will abound, Lord, God
I’m gonna press out cheap pots by the pound”

John Millring said to the captain
“Lord, a man ain’t nothin’ but a man
But before I let that
Ram press beat me down
I’m gonna die, a spinnin’ wheel beneath my hands, Lord, Lord
I’ll die with wet clay slippin’ through my hands”

John Millring was a-turning on the right side
That ram press was pounding on the left
“Before I let your press
Fill this world with stodgy pots
I’ll center and pull myself to death, Lord, Lord
I’ll turn’n’burn my pottin’ self to death”

Well the captain said to John Millring
“What? ..is that a storm I hear?”
John Millring said, “Nope,
That ain’t no storm out there
That’s just my spinning wheel turnin’ ware, Lord, Lord
That’s my mighty kick wheel a-suckin’ air.

Now the captain demanded that they measure
Just to see who might be behind
John Millring done already
Throwed twenty-seven pots
The ram press was only up to number nine, Lord, Lord
The ram press had jus’ barely finished nine

Mid the heat of the contest, John heard music
With the volume knob dialed up real good
Then he grabbed a hundred pounds
That he centered good’n’sound
And threw a crock to hold a cord of wood, Lord, Lord
He winked and said “I did that just because I could.” 

John Millring, he kept a-makin’ thrown ware
But, y’know, the press, it kept a-makin’ too
Maybe you can’t tell the difference?
Well, some folks know what’s good
There’ll be pottery a-plenty for you too, Lord, Lord
Yeah, mass-produced or hand-turned’s up to you