A STRIKE.
Once upon an evening dreary, As I pondered, sad and weary, Oo'r the basket with the (needing from the waßh the day before, Ab I thought of countless stitches To be placed in little breeches, Rose my heart rebellious in lie, as it oft had done before, At the fate that did condemn me, when my daily task was o'er, To that basket evermore. John, with not a sign or motion, Sat and read the Yankee Notion, With no thought of the commotion W Irish within me rankled sore. "He," thought I, "when day is ended, I Hub no Btockiogs to be mended, I Ha 6no babies to bo tended, He can sit and read and snore ! He can sit and read and rest him ; ■ Must I work thus evermore!" And my heart rebellious answered, "Nevermore; no,nevermore." For though I am but a womdn, Every nerve within is human, Aching, throbbing, overworked, Mind and body sick and sore; '••■•■ I will strike. When day is ended, Though the stockings are not mended, Though my course can't be defended, Sale behind the closet door. Goes the basket with the mending, and I'll haunted be no more. In the daylight shall be crowded all the work that 1 will do ; ;.--■'■ When the evening lamps are lighted I will read the papers too.—Exchange.-'
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THA18881022.2.18
Bibliographic details
Thames Advertiser, Volume XX, Issue 6233, 22 October 1888, Page 2
Word Count
221A STRIKE. Thames Advertiser, Volume XX, Issue 6233, 22 October 1888, Page 2
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