We have borne good sons to broken men,
Nurtured them on our hungry breast,
And given them to our masters when
Their day of life was at its best.

We have dried their clammy clothes by the fire,
Solaced them, cheered them, tended them well,
Watched the wheels raising them from the mire,
Watched the wheels lowering them to Hell.

We have prayed for them in a Godless way
(We never could fathom the ways of God)
We have sung with them on their wedding day,
Knowing the journey and the road.

We have stood through the naked night to watch
The silent wheels that raised the dead;
We have gone before to raise the latch,
And lay the pillow beneath their head.

We have done all this for our masters' sake,
Did it in rags and did not mind;
What more do they want? what more can they take?
Unless our eyes and leave us blind.