The Song of the Shirt
Thomas Hood
1799 to 1845
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
It seems so like my own,
Work—work—work
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
And work—work—work,
A crust of bread—and rags.
—With fingers weary and worn,
For only one short hour
Seam, and gusset, and band,
To feel as I used to feel,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch,—
While the cock is crowing aloof!
But in their briny bed
With eyelids heavy and red,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
With the sky above my head,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Without a brain to ponder and craze
And the grass beneath my feet;
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
Till the brain begins to swim,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet!—
Plying her needle and thread—
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
When the weather is warm and bright—
O, but to breathe the breath
It is not linen you're wearing out,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
O, Men with Sisters dear!
Stitch—stitch—stitch,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
And still with the voice of dolorous pitch
From weary chime to chime,
That shatter'd roof,—and this naked floor—
O, Men! with Mothers and Wives!
Or a heart to feel—and break!
As prisoners work for crime!
Work! Work! Work!
Work—work—work—
A table—a broken chair—
My labour never flags;
While underneath the eaves
Work—work—work
A Woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
A little weeping would ease my heart,
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
As if to show me their sunny backs
But only time for Grief!
Where woman has never a soul to save
Work, work, work,
And twit me with the spring.
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
A Woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
It seems so like my own—
But why do I talk of Death!
My tears must stop, for every drop
That Phantom of grisly bone,
O, but for one short hour!
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd,
Hinders needle and thread!
As well as the weary hand.
For sometimes falling there!
Along with the barbarous Turk,
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
A respite however brief!
Work—work—work!
Work—work—work!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
Like the Engine that works by Steam!
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's O! to be a slave
Before I knew the woes of want
And work—work—work,
But human creatures' lives!
And the walk that costs a meal!
And sew them on in a dream!
Would that its tone could reach the Rich!—
And flesh and blood so cheap!
That toils for Mammon's sake—
In the dull December light,
She sang the "Song of the Shirt!
Work—work—work,
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
If this is Christian work!
With eyelids heavy and red,
A mere machine of iron and wood
With fingers weary and worn,
The brooding swallows cling,
Plying her needle and thread—
O God! that bread should be so dear,
© 2024-2025 R.I.Chalmers (V2Melody).
All music on this site by R.I.Chalmers (V2Melody) is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Attribution Requirement:
When using this music, you must give appropriate credit by including the following statement (or equivalent) wherever the music is used or credited:
"Music by R.I.Chalmers (V2Melody) – https://v2melody.com"
Support My Work:
If you enjoy this music and would like to support future creations, your thanks are always welcome but never required.
Thanks!