Classic Poem

In taking of my lonely walk on a cold and wintry day,
As through the colliers' country I wended my way,
I overheard a collier lad, most bitterly he cried,
‘Oh how I rue the day that my own poor father died.

‘When my father he was living, no tommy shops were there;
He did receive good wages and all things went on fair;
And when on Saturday he came home, he to my mother said,
“Come, let us go up into the town to buy our children bread.”

‘To the tommy shop now they're forced to go for all that they do eat,
They're forced to take their wages out in bread and cheese and meat;
And when on Saturday they go to get their wages paid,
The master says, “Do not forget the tommy shop today.”

‘Five and sixpence for a good day's work, it was a collier's due,
But now he thinks himself well off if he gets more than two;
And if he grumbles at the price, the master thus will say,
“To the workhouse with your children, and there get better pay.”

‘Myself and my poor brother, in the morning we do go
To work upon the coalpit bank all in the frost and snow;
The little that we both do earn is needless for to tell,
It'll scarcely serve the one of us, the masters pay so well.

‘But when I do grow up a man, if they don't give better pay,
I'll go and be a soldier for thirteen pence a day
Before I'll work in those dark pits, with others for to share
The benefit of what I earn in tommy shops and beer.

‘If the Queen and all her ministers, they all were for to come
To live as these poor colliers do and work down underground,
And undergo the hardships and dangers of the fire,
I think they'd make the masters pay them better for their hire.

‘If Johnny Russell he was here and worked upon the bank,
And Albert he was doggy, for he's of higher rank,
I think one week would settle them and cause them thus to say,
“Let these poor colliers have their rights, and give them better pay.”’