(Latimer/Hoover)
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Watching the bobbins,
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go up and down.
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Fine Irish linen
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for a ladies gown.
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One shirt a penny,
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seven in a tag;
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ten hours a day
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and her heart begins to drag.
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This never ending cycle goes on.
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But she promised she would never stay...
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for long.
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Rocking the treadle,
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ache in her soul.
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She keeps the rhythm
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and it takes a toll.
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Threading the needle,
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strains in her eyes.
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Old withered fingers
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steal her young girl's pride
|
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She's saving every penny she earns,
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because the passion for her freedom
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still burns.
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-----------------
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Watching The Boobins
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| Camel |
