The Chimney Sweeper / 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 & 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, & that very night, 

As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight! 

That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & 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 & 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 & 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 & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark 

And got with our bags & our brushes to work. 

Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm; 

So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.