 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
41
FIFTY PER CENT. ET CETERA.
It is down with the wages and up with the toil,
Though the sempstress is white
With the wearing of want, and her heart hath the soil
Which her miseries write
As in letters of fire, upon cheek, upon brow,
Burning, haggard and thin,
As they shrink from the gaze of her sisters and bow
With their burden of sin;
Let her slave, till the spirit with honour is spent,
While she skulks under shade;
It is all for the glory of Fifty-per-cent.,
And—the Trade.
Though the sempstress is white
With the wearing of want, and her heart hath the soil
Which her miseries write
As in letters of fire, upon cheek, upon brow,
Burning, haggard and thin,
As they shrink from the gaze of her sisters and bow
With their burden of sin;
Let her slave, till the spirit with honour is spent,
While she skulks under shade;
It is all for the glory of Fifty-per-cent.,
And—the Trade.
She is paid, in a fashion, and body and soul
In the bargain were cast
By the Sweater who preys on her strength, like a ghoul
At his bloody repast;
Never mind, if she suffers from pinching and pain,
And more terrible thought,
While she piles up the dunghill of infamous gain—
She is honestly bought;
Trodden low she in rags, that are loathsome and lent,
In the gutter may squirm,
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—the Firm.
In the bargain were cast
By the Sweater who preys on her strength, like a ghoul
At his bloody repast;
Never mind, if she suffers from pinching and pain,
And more terrible thought,
While she piles up the dunghill of infamous gain—
She is honestly bought;
Trodden low she in rags, that are loathsome and lent,
In the gutter may squirm,
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—the Firm.
What if daily she droops in the anguish for life,
Swelling higher the heap,
Till at last she lays hold on the poison or knife?
Human chattels are cheap;
There are hundreds quite ready to step in her place,
And be ground unto dust,
While they eke out their mite with a little disgrace,
Just to butter the crust;
Were not drudges like her only made, to be bent
For the conquering Purse?
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—the Curse.
Swelling higher the heap,
Till at last she lays hold on the poison or knife?
Human chattels are cheap;
There are hundreds quite ready to step in her place,
And be ground unto dust,
While they eke out their mite with a little disgrace,
Just to butter the crust;
Were not drudges like her only made, to be bent
For the conquering Purse?
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—the Curse.
Ah, the Many must wince at the ravisher's rod,
To aggrandize the Few
Who would drive four-in-hand, and sing praises to God
In a prominent pew;
And this is but a drop in the Puddle, and need
Was her earliest cry;
Let her struggle and starve to the end and be d---d,
Ere a dog we deny;
If the torments, whose home is the lost, should be pent
In her agonized frame,
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—our shame.
To aggrandize the Few
Who would drive four-in-hand, and sing praises to God
In a prominent pew;
And this is but a drop in the Puddle, and need
Was her earliest cry;
Let her struggle and starve to the end and be d---d,
Ere a dog we deny;
If the torments, whose home is the lost, should be pent
In her agonized frame,
It is all for the glory of Fifty per cent.,
And—our shame.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |