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The Chimney Sweeper

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. Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head That curi'd like a lambs back, was shav'd, 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 lock'd up in coffins of black, And by came an Angel who had a bright key, And he open'd 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. Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm. So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

Маленький трубочист

Когда я еще начинал лепетать, Ушла навсегда моя бедная мать. Отец меня продал, — я сажу скребу И черную вам прочищаю трубу. Заплакал обстриженный наголо Том. Его я утешил: «Не плачь, ведь зато, Покуда кудрями опять не оброс, Не сможет и сажа испачкать волос». Затих и уснул он, приткнувшись к стене, И ночью привиделись Тому во сне Гробы на поляне — и их миллион, А в них трубочисты — такие, как он. Но Ангел явился в сиянии крыл И лучиком света гробы отворил. И к речке помчалась ватага детей, Чтоб сажу в воде оттереть поскорей. Мешки побросав и резвясь на ветру, Затеяли в облаке белом, игру. Сказал Тому Ангел: «Будь чистым душой! И Бог, как отец, встанет рядом с тобой». Со всеми во тьме пробудился наш Том, Со всеми за щетку с тяжелым мешком — И утром промозглым согрет трубочист: Трудящийся честно пред Господом чист.

The Little Boy Lost

Father, father, where are you going 0 do not walk so fast. Speak father, speak to your little boy Or else I shall be lost, The night was dark no father was there The child was wet with dew. The mire was deep, & the child did weep And away the vapour flew.