Textile Mill Poem by Charlie Parant

the doors were chained, all the workers contained
so that no one could take a break
with immigrant dreams they worked noisy machines
‘til their hands and their fingers would ache

in the dark, sweaty shop women working nonstop
while the foreman was keeping the score
they worked without cease and were paid by the piece
while the watchman kept walking the floor

some thought it a joke that the foreman would smoke
while the women worked noisy machines
so no one could tell when they started to yell,
“there is smoke wafting up to the beams”

starting to shout, “Hey, we gotta get out”
the watchman ran back for the keys
but they think he got burned ‘cuz he never returned
as the smoke brought them all to their knees

they crawled to the door across the oil stained floor
they pulled and they tugged on the chain
some ran out of breath others jumped to their death
and they all screamed and hollered in vain

when the bodies were found and laid out on the ground
one-hundred and five people died
a few did survive but were barely alive
while the rest were found stacked up inside

the foreman falling asleep was a secret to keep
the owners began to conspire
as they buried the dead all the newspapers said
oily rags may have started the fire

with no time to waste the machines were replaced
insurance to cover the bill
money to earn was the owners concern
and a hundred and five jobs to fill