When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue,
Could scarcely cry
weep weep weep weep,
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That
curled like a lambs back was shav'd, so I said.
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that
the soot cannot spoil your white hair
And so he was quiet & that very night.
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
That
thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black,
And by came an Angel who had a
bright key
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free.
Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run
And wash in a river and
shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind.
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke and we rose in the
dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to
work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy &
warm
So if all do their duty, they need not fear
harm.
Достарыңызбен бөлісу: 
