THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. BY THOMAS HOOD.
Reading edition
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread— Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the “Song of the Shirt!”
Work! work! work While the cock is crowing aloof! And work—work—work, Till the stars shine through the roof! It’s oh! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where a woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!
Work—work—work Till the brain begins to swim; Work—work—work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam and gusset, and band, Band and gusset and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream!
Oh, men, with sisters dear! Oh, men, with mothers and wives! It is not linen you’re wearing out But human creature’s lives! Stitch—stitch—stitch, In poverty, hunger and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt.