Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1882-08-11
1.-THE SONG Of THE SRiRT."

1.-THE SONG Of THE SKIkT."
Ono 0f Tom Hoods stsDxas Suppressed.
1t Is not generally known that in the origi.
MI publication Of Tom Hoods "Song of the
Shirt" one of the stanzas was suppressed by
the editor of Punch. This periodical to which
the "Song of the Shirt" was contributed, was
set up ut that time land possibly is now) in
Bouverie street, on Fleet street, London, in
the printing establishment OF Messrs. Brad
bury & Evans, the proprietOrs. 1t appeared
then every Wednesday morning at IL O'Clock
on the streets, and on every Tuesday after.
noon the pages OF Punch, sinyly, were sub
mitted to the editor. Mr. Lemon. 1t was on
one of these Tuesdays that Mr.. Lemon cut
out the stanza printed below in italics. 1t was
rescued from the waste basket by a proof
reader, whose nephew now prints it in this
country. The whole poem. Us written, was as
follows:
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A oman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread
Stitch: Stitch! Stitch!
In poverty, hunger and dirt,
And still with q voice Of dolorOus pitch
She sang tho Song OF tho Shirt"
"Work-work-work!
While the cock is growing aloof.
And wOrk-wOrk-work,
Till the stars shine through the root;
It's Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarOus Turk.
Where woman has never n soul 10 save.
II this ia Christian work!
"work-work- work
Till the brain begins to swim:
WOrk-wOrk-work
Til the eyes are heavy and dim.
Seam. and susset, and band,
Band. and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream:
"Oh. men, with sisters dear:
Oh, men, with mother and wives.
1t is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures lives!
Stitch-Stitch-stitch,
In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing at once with double thread
A shrOud as well AS a shirt.
But why do talk of Death.
That Phantom OF grisly bone.
hardly fear its terrible shape?
1t seem, so like my own
Ii seems so like my own,
Because OF the lasts keep;
oh, God that bread should be go dear.
And flesh and blood SO cheap!
" Yet is it a phantOm-Dedth
No: rather the goat Of Hope'
Is it not Rest from the troubled Liyr
WUh Which The Poor must cope
Yes, such as must cope,
While riot and riches 6icad!'
Ah, celcone the silent and res!fm grdre,
Where acork mus, haze an cnd'
"Work-work-work!
My labor never flags;
And what are tne wages? A bed OF straw,
A crust OF bread-and rags,
That shattered roof-and this naked floor
A table-a broken chair
And q wall SO blank, my shadow l thank
For sometimes falling there:
wOrk-work-work:
From weary chime TO chime,
WOrk-wOrk-work.
As pris ners work for crime:
Band, and gussct, anu seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band.
Till the he irt is sick, anu the BRAN benumb'd
AS we'll rs the weary hand.
"Work-work-work!
In the dull December light,
And wOrk-wOrk-work,
When the weather is warm AMI bright
While underneath the caves
The broodinG swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the Spring.
"Oh but to breath the br ath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet,
With the sky above my head
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel rs 1 used to feel
Before knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs meal!
"Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief
No blessed leisure tor Love or Hope.
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heat:
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
flinders needle and thread"
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rage,
Plying her needle and thread
Stitch! stitchi stitchi
In poverty, hunger and dirt.
And still with Il voice of dolorOus pitch
Would that its tone could reach the Rich!-
She sang this " Song OF the Shirt