Children in their early years
Out working in the mill
A dirty face in raggy clothes
That won’t keep out the chill
Ran beneath the working looms
In danger every day
Slept upon the piles of rags
Had always been this way
The factory owners didn’t care
When another child got sick
They sent them from the work place
And got another quick
They were offered no protection
Many injured many died
The owners kept no records
When asked they simply lied
Till at last some folk took action
Child labour wasn’t right
Fought the mill and factory owners
And at last they won their fight
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem