Our Poor Little Factory Girls

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Title:     Our Poor Little Factory Girls
Author: Bill o'th' Hoylus End [More Titles by Bill o'th' Hoylus End]

They are up in the morning right early,
They are up sometimes afore leet;
I hear their clogs they are clamping,
As t'little things go dahn the street.

They are off in the morning right early,
With their baskets o' jock on their arm;
The bell is ting-tonging, ting-tonging,
As they enter the mill in a swarm.

They are kapering backward and forward,
Their ends to keep up if they can;
They are doing their utmost endeavours,
For fear o' the frown o' man.

Wi' fingers so nimble and supple,
They twist, an' they twine, an' they twirl,
Such walking, an' running, an' kneeling,
Does the wee little factory girl.

They are bouncing about like a shuttle,
They are kneeling an' rubbing the floor;
While their wee little mates they are doffing,
Preparing the spindles for more.

Them two little things they are t'thickest,
They help one another 'tis plain;
They try to be t'best and t'quickest,
The smiles o' their master to gain.

And now from her ten hours' labour,
Back to her cottage shoo shogs;
Aw hear by the tramping an' singing,
'Tis the factory girl in her clogs.

And at night when shoo's folded i' slumber,
Shoo's dreaming o' noises and drawls:
Of all human toil under-rated,
'Tis our poor little factory girl's.

[The end]
Bill o'th' Hoylus End's poem: Our Poor Little Factory Girls

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