O here I sit and plait my straw

1 O, here I sit, and plait my straw,
Tho' all the live-long day, ma'am,
And neater, never lady saw;
So I am sure you'll say, ma'am;
It is a very poor concern,
'Tis nothing very sprightly,
But yet some pennies I can earn,
To give my mother nightly.

2 O, much I thank the lady there,
'Twas she would have me taught it;
For once I used to romp, and tear,
It was not I who sought it;
O, then in rags I used to go,
I had a sickly mother,
And I could neither knit nor sew,
But only nursed my brother.

3 But now my brother runs alone,
He's able just to totter--
Full long my mother had to groan,
Until her meals I got her.
O, how it cheer'd her languid eye
When first my gains I brought her,
Now oft I hear her sigh and cry--
"God bless thee, my dear daughter."

4 And oft I wish that each poor one
Were taught to do like me, ma'am:
For I am sure, from sun to sun,
Much happiness they'd see, ma'am.
With industry I pass my day--
At night I rest most sweetly,
I'm very glad I know the way
Of plaiting straw so neatly.

Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #124