The Chimney Sweeper

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 headThat curl'd 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 & JackWere all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

And by came an Angel who had a bright keyAnd he open'd the coffins & set them all free,Then down a green plain leaping laughing they runAnd 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 darkAnd got with our bags & our brushes to work.Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warmSo if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.