Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/67

 his wife's lap a pair of trousers, and held it up. "Look at 'em! Why you can see right throu' 'em, linings and all. Who's goin' to pay more than 'alf a crown for that? Where they go to I can't think. Who wears 'em? Some institution I should say. They talk, but dear me, they'll never do anything so long as there's thousands like us, glad to work for what we can get. Best not to think about it, I says."

And laying the trousers back on his wife's lap he resumed his sidelong stare into the fire.

The Song of the Shirt

(Popular English poet and humorist; 1799-1845)

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 O! to be a slave  Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save,  If this is Christian work!