We left our home in St. Hubert to work the Amoskeag
In Manchester New Hampshire in 1883
My parents and my brothers all work the same as I
At the spinning and the weaving, we make the shuttles fly
Six days a week we rise at four to work our sixteen hours
Ma mère and me are spinners inside their tall brick towers
Mon père, he’s in the weaving room, mes frères, they sweep the floors
We see them but we cannot speak above the shuttle’s roar
You’ll find all ages in the mill, ‘tit enfants et grandpères
Their wages are a pittance, not enough to pay their share
All of us must labor here or else we do not eat
Our home is in a tenement with no water and no heat
On Sundays a great silence reigns, so sweet our ears do ring
And to our God together we may raise a voice to sing
We rest so dear, so briefly, and visit where we may
For Monday morn’ will soon arrive when the shuttle rules our day
My friend, she had an accident; three fingers she has lost
Another boy was crushed to death and who accounts the cost
Of health and youth spent quickly in thumping mills of brick and tin
How do we keep our sanity in the shuttle’s hellish din?
O my friends and family in lovely St. Hubert
Don’t listen to recruiters when they ask to pay your fare
Stay at home, don’t listen to their blandishments and lies
Or you’ll end up, a slave like me, to the shuttle that never dies
© 1993, Donna Hébert/BMI. Recorded with Chanterelle on Smithsonian/Folkways: “Mademoiselle, voulez-vous danser?”
POB 2632, Amherst MA 01004
fiddlingdemystified.com / donna@fiddlingdemystified.com