Classic Poem

Now Parson Bland he wears a scowl,
An' Miss Fitzgerald looks askance,
Me mother can do nowt but howl,
An' Kate she says I lost me chance,
And O, I'm sick as sick can be
O' the whole blessed country.

There's fifty people in this place,
As stiff as starch, an' mostly frumps:
Old women making pillow lace,
Old men with their perpetual grumps,
And here an' there a gal like me
Housemaidin' for some family.

As soon as they're a decent size
The boys go off to try their luck,
And then we gals must shut our eyes
An' slave along the sickenin' ruck,
Settin' the fires before it's light,
An' washin' up far into night.

Two evenings and church we get:
'T'ud be all right in any town;
But here it's nearly always wet,
An' where's to walk, 'cept up the down?
An' who's to see, except me mother,
And Auntie Lou, an' me soft brother?

Lonely? O dear! It ain't the word;
An' workin' like a darned machine.
The times I've wished I never heard
Jack kissin' Meg out on the green.
I've often wished the devil himself
Would come an' take me off the shelf.

What do they think? I'm twenty-three,
An' decent-lookin', as gals go.
What do they think 'ud come to me?
That I should always be for show?
That I had lips, but not to kiss?
That I should live and die just ‘Miss’?

Well, so I shall: that's certain now,
But not unkissed: thank God for that.
It worn't the best, that I'll allow,
But I loved him an' told him flat;
And now I got to bear the blame.
Well, I don't care. I've got no shame.

No. There it is. I wanted him:
Wanted him more than all beside.
It worn't no silly trollop's whim;
And now I'm glad there's nowt to hide.
I'll shuffle on as best I can;
Meantime I'm glad I knew my man.

Yes, glad. An' Mum can mop her face,
An' people call me what they please;
God knows I don't feel no disgrace—
No, now a decent kind of ease
Comes over me, because I know
In me my baby 'gins to grow.

There 'tis. I see myself quite straight
Where once I used to be all mazed.
It ain't ‘bad luck,’ or ‘just my fate,’
It's them as turns from me is crazed;
An' let it shine, an' let it rain,
I shan't be a machine again.

What do they think a body's for?
Why, do they think, I had red cheeks?
For nowt at all, cause I was poor,
Or just to watch the days an' weeks
An' long, long, endless years go by,
Slavin' for them until I die.