THE SONG OF THE SOLDIER'S SHIRT.
(In 1879 it was announced that the wages of the women working at the Army Clothing Department, Pimlico, had been reduced from 20 to 25 per cent.)
WITH fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat 'neath a Government roof,
Plying her needle and thread.
As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd,
'Twas plain she was most expert;
And she sang to herself in a voice low-pitch'd,
The "Song of the Soldier's Shirt."
Work! work! work!
There's no rest in youth or age!
And alas! I have now to work
For a cruelly lessen'd wage!
I sit at my task all day,
And never my duty shirk,
But slop-shop prices would better pay
Than this cheap Government work.
Work! work! work!
My labour never flags,
And yet with my pittance I scarce can buy
A crust of bread—and rags.
I work for the greatest Power,
That ever the world has known,
Yet my pay's so small that I cannot call
My body and soul my own.
* * * *
Oh! is there no other way
Of bringing expenditure down?
Must they needs reduce our paltry pay
Of all who serve the Crown?
Heaven grant that they yet may see
Some way the wrong to redress,
For every penny they take from me
Means a slice of bread the less!
* * * *
As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd,
'Twas plain she was most expert;
And she sang in a voice that was low and sweet
(Oh! that it may reach to Downing Street!)
This "Song of the Soldier's Shirt."
Truth, May 1, 1879.