The Jute Mill Song
Oh dear me, the mill's ga'in' fast,
The poor wee shifters canna get their rest;
Shiftin' bobbins coarse and fine,
They fairly make you work for your ten and nine.
Oh dear me, I wish the day was done,
Runnin' up and down the pass is no fun—
Shiftin', piecin', spinnin' warp, weft and twine,
To feed and cleed your bairn aff'n ten and nine.
Oh dear me, the world's ill divided,
Them that work the hardest are the least provided.
But I must bide contented, dark days or fine;
There's no' much pleasure livin' aff'n ten and nine.
The poor wee shifters canna get their rest;
Shiftin' bobbins coarse and fine,
They fairly make you work for your ten and nine.
Oh dear me, I wish the day was done,
Runnin' up and down the pass is no fun—
Shiftin', piecin', spinnin' warp, weft and twine,
To feed and cleed your bairn aff'n ten and nine.
Oh dear me, the world's ill divided,
Them that work the hardest are the least provided.
But I must bide contented, dark days or fine;
There's no' much pleasure livin' aff'n ten and nine.
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