The Augusta Constitutionalist, April 28, 1864, reprinted a long article from the Richmond Examiner, which originated with the New York World, giving the report of the Women's Protective Union. The report noted working conditions for sewing women, with pay for individual pieces of clothing constructed, number of stitches, details of sewing, hours worked, cost to employer, etc. The report ended in a poem entitled "Song of the Working Women," which is related to the earlier poem "Song of the Shirt."
Song of the Working Women.
By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
The war shout that rings up from battle
Thrills through the answering crowd,
When you free the slave as a chattle,
The joy of freedom is loud.
But the prayer that comes from woman,
When she asketh bread for toil,
Is meet with a clamor inhuman,
‘Mid an eager rush for spoil.
Work! Work! Work! This is the answering cry,
“Our wives are fond of jewels, and widows were made to sigh.”
We plead that our hands are a-weary,
That our hearts are sad with care—
That our hearts are desolate, dreary,
Our spirits sunk in despair.
We plead that our children are crying
For the food we cannot earn—
That hope in our bosoms is dying,
As a fire forgets to burn.
Work! Work! Work! Thus the answer rushes by,
“Our sons must have fast horses, and children were born to cry.”
We say that our homes are darkened,
For the loved who gave them light
To the first war trumpet hearkened,
And went away to the fight.
Some have fallen low in the ditches,
And some lie stark on the plain;
We mingle sad tears with our stitches,
But when we dare to complain—
Work! Work! Work! This is the answering cry,
“We must make wealth by contracts, and soldiers enlist to die.”
Then we plead that as gold goes higher
Our fuel is rising too—
That our hearths lack warmth and fire;
And the sewing that we can do,
With all our weary, toilsome stitching,
With all our tears and pain,
With our desolate midnight watching,
Is worse, oh worse than in vain,
Work! Work! Work! is still the answering cry,
“Heap coal and wine in our cellars—poor women were born to die.”
Vicki Betts
Song of the Working Women.
By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
The war shout that rings up from battle
Thrills through the answering crowd,
When you free the slave as a chattle,
The joy of freedom is loud.
But the prayer that comes from woman,
When she asketh bread for toil,
Is meet with a clamor inhuman,
‘Mid an eager rush for spoil.
Work! Work! Work! This is the answering cry,
“Our wives are fond of jewels, and widows were made to sigh.”
We plead that our hands are a-weary,
That our hearts are sad with care—
That our hearts are desolate, dreary,
Our spirits sunk in despair.
We plead that our children are crying
For the food we cannot earn—
That hope in our bosoms is dying,
As a fire forgets to burn.
Work! Work! Work! Thus the answer rushes by,
“Our sons must have fast horses, and children were born to cry.”
We say that our homes are darkened,
For the loved who gave them light
To the first war trumpet hearkened,
And went away to the fight.
Some have fallen low in the ditches,
And some lie stark on the plain;
We mingle sad tears with our stitches,
But when we dare to complain—
Work! Work! Work! This is the answering cry,
“We must make wealth by contracts, and soldiers enlist to die.”
Then we plead that as gold goes higher
Our fuel is rising too—
That our hearths lack warmth and fire;
And the sewing that we can do,
With all our weary, toilsome stitching,
With all our tears and pain,
With our desolate midnight watching,
Is worse, oh worse than in vain,
Work! Work! Work! is still the answering cry,
“Heap coal and wine in our cellars—poor women were born to die.”
Vicki Betts
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