A child of work

I am a child of work
And dust and grime.
Through noise and pain
I spin on.

From early in the morning
To late at night.
From six in the morning
To eight at night.

I spin away the day
And my life, hopes, and dreams.
Never again to see the sun.
Oh, how dreary life has become.

Never a friend to talk to.
Never a friendly wave or smile.
Only harshness and beatings
To greet me when I am late.

I spin through the day
Thinking only of
The life I could have had.
The dream that will never be.

Dreams are dreams
Hopes are hopes
Spinning is spinning
Will a new life ever come?

Crowds, garbage, and dirt.
They greet me every night
When I come home from spinning
Eight threads at a time.

Eight threads
At a single time.
From dawn to night.
Oh, I wish for a clean home.

Families in one room
Large or small
It does not matter.
Unbearable crowds they are.

But through sickness and death
I spin on to earn what I can.
I still spin on
Through the hurt and pain.

Crime and harm
They rule my life
No safe place
To run and hide.

No where to go
No where to hide
No where to be alone
And still I spin.

In my heart
I can love and hate
In my mind
I can dream and hope

No one can take
My dreams and hopes.
They can take my life
But never my hopes and dreams.

I am the only hope
Of my family of eight
To make the money
To buy bread and water

I wish to leave
And return to the country
But the spinning jenny
Needs my skillful hands.

I am a child of work
And dust and grime.
Through noise and pain
I spin on.



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