Spinning A Yarn Poem by Angela Wybrow

Early in the morning, the Mill's siren sent out a loud wail:
To hear its calling, the local people could not possibly fail;
Clogs clattered noisily along the shiny cobblestones,
As workers, in their hundreds, left their humble homes.

For hour upon end, like bees, the large workforce toiled;
By dust, oil and grime, their work clothes were often soiled.
Children aged as young as six would often work a shift:
Through raw wool, they were expected to sit there and sift.

Under the moving machinery, the little children ducked:
Pieces of woollen fibre from the floor, they plucked.
It was commonplace for children to suffer terrible harm:
Some got trapped in machinery by their hair or arms.

Workers spent their hours carding, spinning, and weaving,
From the early morning right through to the early evening.
In the still air, dust and fibres both constantly hung,
Slowly working their way in to the workers' lungs.

Due to deafening machines, workers cleverly designed
Their own method of communication using silent signs;
There were many reported cases of workers being left
With hearing problems; whilst others were completely deaf.

A few of the mills were managed by big, mean bully boys,
But, to work at these mills, workers had very little choice;
The conditions at the mills were often extremely harsh:
Workers may be beaten if they did not work that fast.

If workers fell ill and, on their sickbed, they were laid,
That week they would struggle, as they would not get paid.
Work conditions were arduous, and the pay was pretty poor:
But if the workers complained, they were shown the door.