Bonus Content: Weaver’s Word

A song about the industrialisation of the textiles industry. More fun than it sounds!

Written by Jason Phelps

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Lyrics
My father owned this loom, His father’s pride and joy He taught me how to weave, When I was but a boy

The weft across the warp, The shuttle passing by And here within my home, I watch my living die

The willowing, the carding, My wife, she combs the wool My lad, he takes the spinning wheel, For yarn upon my tool

We lived this way for centuries, But it just couldn’t last It’s all done now in factories, We’re doomed now to the past

Wake up cold in a tiny room, All I can dream of is that loom Empty belly, not enough to eat, White drives life to the steam-pumps beat

No one hears the weaver’s word, Weaver’s word Weaver’s word

Too much noise to hear your words, In the factories

Foreman works you like a slave, Drives you to an early grave All the heart of a burning brand, Works you more than you can stand

In that mill house night and day, Night and day Night and day

Never see the light of day, In the factories

Kids always have lots of work, Beat you if they see you shirk Make you crawl where you can’t stand, All fun ‘til you lose a hand

Always work here for a child, For a child For a child

It’s no place here for a child, In the factories

Leaves your blood burning with wroth, Blood’s the price paid for cheap cloth But you’ve got to stand this rot, They break strikes with hot grapeshot

Someday soon this all will end All will end All will end

Someday soon this has to end, In the factories