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,