The Testimony of Patience Kershaw

It's good of you to ask me, Sir, to tell you how I spend the day Well in a coal black tunnel, Sir, I hurry corves to earn my pay The corves are full of coal, kind Sir, I push them with my hands and head It isn't lady-like, but Sir, you've got to earn your daily bread I push them with my hands and head, and so my hair gets worn away You see this baldy patch I've got, it shames me like I just can't say A lady's hands are lily white, but mine are full of cuts and segs And since I'm pushing all the time, I've great big muscles on my legs I try to be respectable, but sir, the shame, God save my soul I work with naked, sweating men who curse and swear and hew the coal The sights, the smells, the sounds, kind Sir, not even God could sense my shame I say my prayers, but what's the use? Tomorrow will be just the same Now, sometimes, Sir, I don't feel well, my stomach's sick, my head it aches I've got to hurry best I can. My knees feel weak, my back near breaks And then I'm slow, and then I'm scared these naked men will batter me They can't be blamed, but if I'm slow, their families will starve, you see All the lads, they laugh at me, and Sir, the mirror tells me why Pale and dirty can't look nice. It doesn't matter how I try Great big muscles on my legs, a baldy patch upon my head A lady, Sir? Oh, no, not me! I should have been a boy instead I praise your good intentions, Sir, I love your kind and gentle heart But now it's 1842, and you and me, we're miles apart A hundred years and more will pass before we're walking side by side But please accept my grateful thanks. God bless you Sir, at least you tried