The Weaver’s Song.
Not by Barry Cornwall.
Why should I toil from morn till night,1
Producing wealth I can’t enjoy ?2
Why should base robbers thus unite3
The honest to destroy !4
Why should I live deprived of all5
The countless blessings nature gave ?6
Oh, why not rouse at nature’s call7
And cease to be a slave ?8
Deprived of all that blesses man,9
Why should I live in pain,10
To bless a greedy tyrant clan11
Who make my labour vain ?12
Why should I ceaseless toil for those13
Who care not for my sad distress ?14
Who cruelly increase my woes15
And make each comfort less !16
Who, idly wanton, will not heed17
The sufferings which they cause,—18
Who press upon their brethren’s need,19
And laugh at nature’s laws !20
The idle poet’s lay I scorn !—21
The coldly reasoning brute I hate !22
I feel my heart, my soul forlorn—23
I cannot bear my state !24
Hot indignation burns me up—25
My thoughts, my words are all in flame—26
I now have drained sad sorrow’s cup,27
And Justice now will claim !28