“The Lowell Factory Girl” Sheet Music (pdf).
“The Lowell Factory Girl” Karaoke (midi with lyrics).
Lyrics: Anonymous.
Tune: “The Chatham Merchant.”
When I set out for Lowell, some factory for to find,
I left my native country, and my friends behind.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
But now I am in Lowell, and summon’d by the bell,
I think less of the factory than of my native dell.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
The factory bell begins to ring, and we must all obey,
And to our old employment go, or else be turned away.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
Come all ye weary factory girls, I’ll have you understand,
I’m going to leave the factory and return to my native land.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll put my bonnet on and hasten to the mill,
While all the girls are working hard, here I’ll be lying still.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll lay my bobbins up, no more I’ll take them down;
No more I’ll clean my dirty work, for I’m going out of town.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll take my piece of soap, no more I’ll go to wash,
No more my overseer shall say, “Your frames are stopped to doff.”
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
Come all you little doffers that work in the Spinning room;
Go wash your face and comb your hair, prepare to leave the room.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll oil my picker rods, no more I’ll brush my loom,
No more I’ll scour my dirty floor all in the Weaving room.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll draw these threads all through the harness eye;
No more I’ll say to my overseer, “Oh! dear me, I shall die.”
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more I’ll get my overseer to come and fix my loom,
No more I’ll say to my overseer can’t I stay out ’till noon?
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
Then since they’ve cut my wages down to nine shillings per week,
If I cannot better wages make, some other place I’ll seek.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
No more he’ll find me reading, no more he’ll see me sew,
No more he’ll come to me and say “Such works I can’t allow.”
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
I do not like my overseer, I do not mean to stay,
I mean to hire a Depot-boy to carry me away.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
The Dress-room girls they needn’t think because they higher go,
That they are better than the girls that work in the rooms below.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
The overseers they need not think because they higher stand,
That they are better than the girls that work at their command.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
’Tis wonder how the men can such machinery make,
A thousand wheels together roll without the least mistake.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
Now soon you’ll see me married to a handsome little man,
’Tis then I’ll say to you factory girls, come and see me when you can.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.
Then sing hit-re-i-re-a-re-o. Then sing hit-re-i-re-a.