JANNOCK!
Songs, Dances and Romances of the Striding Dales
3. Fourpence a Day (Trad.)
The ore is waiting in the tubs,the snow's upon the fell,
Canny folk are sleeping yet, but lead is reet to sell.
Come my little washer lad, come let's away,
We're bound down to slavery for fourpence a day.
It's early in the morning when we rise at five o' clock,
The little slaves come to the door to knock! knock! knock!
Come my little washer lad, come let's away,
It's very hard to have to work for fourpence a day.....
My dad he was a miner and he lived in Girston Town,
Twas hard work and poverty that allus kept him down.
He aimed for me to go to school, but brass he couldn't pay,
So I had to go to the washing rake for fourpence a day....
My mother rises out of bed with tears upon her cheeks,
Puts my wallet in my knapsack, that has to serve a week.
It often fills her great big heart when she to me does say,
'Ah nivver thowt tha woulda worked for fourpence a day!'
Fourpence a day my lads, and very hard to work,
And never a pleasant word from a gruffy looking turk.
His conscience may it fail, and his heart may it give way,
And he'll raise us us wages to ninepence a day.....!
Traditional
This well known little song spells out the harsh realities of child labour in the lead mining industry of the 19th century. ‘Girston’ is the old name for Grassington .
Jim Jarratt. Mytholmroyd. 2006
Copyright Jim Jarratt. 2006
The ore is waiting in the tubs,the snow's upon the fell,
Canny folk are sleeping yet, but lead is reet to sell.
Come my little washer lad, come let's away,
We're bound down to slavery for fourpence a day.
It's early in the morning when we rise at five o' clock,
The little slaves come to the door to knock! knock! knock!
Come my little washer lad, come let's away,
It's very hard to have to work for fourpence a day.....
My dad he was a miner and he lived in Girston Town,
Twas hard work and poverty that allus kept him down.
He aimed for me to go to school, but brass he couldn't pay,
So I had to go to the washing rake for fourpence a day....
My mother rises out of bed with tears upon her cheeks,
Puts my wallet in my knapsack, that has to serve a week.
It often fills her great big heart when she to me does say,
'Ah nivver thowt tha woulda worked for fourpence a day!'
Fourpence a day my lads, and very hard to work,
And never a pleasant word from a gruffy looking turk.
His conscience may it fail, and his heart may it give way,
And he'll raise us us wages to ninepence a day.....!
Traditional
This well known little song spells out the harsh realities of child labour in the lead mining industry of the 19th century. ‘Girston’ is the old name for Grassington .