Babies in the Mill

I used to be a factory hand when things was moving slow
When children worked in cotton mills, each morning had to go
Every morning, just at five, the whistle blew on time
To call them babies out of bed, at the age of eight or nine

Get out of bed, little sleepy head
And get you a bite to eat
The factory whistle's calling you
There's no more time to sleep

To their jobs those little ones were strictly force to go
Those babies had to be on time through rain and sleet and snow
Many times when things went wrong their bosses often frowned
Many times those little ones was kicked and shoved around

Get out of bed, little sleepy head
And get you a bite to eat
The factory whistle's calling you
There's no more time to sleep

Those babies all grew up unlearned, they never went to school
They never learned to read or write, they learned to spin + spool
Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture still
When textile work was carried on by babies in the mill

Get out of bed, little sleepy head
And get you a bite to eat
The factory whistle's calling you
There's no more time to sleep