Fourpence A Day

The ore is waiting in the tubs the snow's upon the fell
Canny folk are sleeping yet but lead is reet to sell
Come me little washer lad come let's away
We're bound down to slavery for four pence a day

It's early in the morning we rise at five o'clock
And the little slaves come to the door to knock, knock, knock
Come me little washer lad, come let's away
It's very hard to work for four pence a day

My father was a miner and lived down in the town
Twas hard work and poverty that always kept him down
He aimed for me to go to school, but brass he couldn’t pay
So I had to go to the washing rake for four pence a day

Me mother rises out of bed with tears on her cheeks
Puts my wallet on my shoulders, which has to serve a week
It often fills her great big heart when she to me does say
I never thought you would have worked for four pence a day

Fourpence a day, me lads, and very hard to work
And never a pleasant look from a gruffy looking Turk
His conscience it may fail and his heart it may give way
Then he raises all our wages to nine pence a day