The Chimney Sweeper
by William Blake
(That's right - THE William Blake)
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " `weep! `weep! `weep! `weep!
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."
And so he was quiet, and that very nitght,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Thought the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
This was an old line of work for me - 18 years of collecting soot here in Taos.
If you are visiting northern New Mexico and wish to play,
we are always willing to get in another game!
Please feel free to send us e-mail
totem@laplaza.org