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The years, the years have come and gone,
While the mill pumps the life into our town;
Ship after ship gorged with paper tried and true,
But one thing stays unchanged decades through,
Like a call from the past for all who knew.
'Cause at a quarter to eight and eight o'clock,
You can hear the whistle scream;
Ringing clear for miles around,
You'll swear it's always been.
When the whistle roared at the hour of four,
And the day's sweat and toil was done;
Each home would pray that the mill would stay,
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
The faces and the names have changed with time,
Chippers take the place of stones that grind;
No substations and floors that once we knew,
But with pride we set our clocks to a favourite tune;
We always set our clocks to that tune.
'Cause at a quarter to eight and eight o'clock,
You can hear the whistle scream;
Ringing clear for miles around,
You'll swear it's always been.
When the whistle roared at the hour of four,
And the day's sweat and toil was done;
Each home would pray that the mill would stay,
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
Sometimes fire or emergencies unknown,
Short blasts would turn the heads of those at home;
Throughout each day the echoes sounding clear,
Sometimes at night you'd wake from sleep as it ripped the air;
Your eyes would shut with the ring through the still night air.
But at a quarter to eight and eight o'clock,
You can hear the whistle scream;
Ringing clear for miles around,
You'll swear it's always been.
When the whistle roared at the hour of four,
And the day's sweat and toil was done;
Each home would pray that the mill would stay,
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
No one knows what the future has in store,
Yes, the day may come when the paper rolls no more;
But like the men that gave the best years of their lives,
A simple blast will always blow strong in our minds;
The voice of a mill that shaped our lives.
'Cause at a quarter to eight and eight o'clock,
You can hear the whistle scream;
Ringing clear for miles around,
You'll swear it's always been.
When the whistle roared at the hour of four,
And the day's sweat and toil was done;
Each home would pray that the mill would stay,
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
'Cause at a quarter to eight and eight o'clock,
You can hear the whistle scream;
Ringing clear for miles around,
You'll swear it's always been.
When the whistle roared at the hour of four,
And the day's sweat and toil was done;
Each home would pray that the mill would stay,
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
And we'd always hear ... the whistle blow.
And we'd always hear it blow.
