Watching the Bobbins

Watching the bobbins go up and down
Fine Irish linen for a ladies gown
One shirt a penny, seven in a tag
Ten hours a day and her heart begins to drag

This never ending cycle goes on
But she promised she would never stay
For long

Rocking the treadle, ache in her soul
She keeps the rhythm and it takes a toll
Threading the needle, strain in her eyes
Old withered fingers steal her young girl's pride

She's saving every penny she earns
Because the passion for her freedom
Still burns