By Sheila Kilbourne.

As a young girl on leaving school
I went to work in the mill,
As even then the times were hard,
You couldn't choose jobs at will.
We couldn't afford the nice jobs,
In hairdressing, shops and such,
With mum on her own with a few of us,
The money they paid wasn't much.
As I left school on the Friday
By Monday I was earning my pay,
The hours were long, the work seemed hard
But it wasn't too bad in a way.
We only wore shoes on a Sunday
We had to wear clogs on our feet,
Hard leather, clog-ironed they called them
If you clicked them, they'd spark down the street.
We didn't wear shawls like our mothers,
But an overall or pinnie' was worn,
They'd be covered in down from the cotton
We'd just sew them or patch them when torn.
The noise of the engine was deafening
As it drove the shafting round,
You couldn't hear folks, as you worked at the loom
It was easier to lip-read we found.
With wages untouched
We used to dash home
For mum to receive our pay,
She'd wait at the doorway to greet us
Always wore a clean pinnie' that day.
We've had our fair share of bread puddings,
Suet dumplings in broth or stew,
So we didn't do too badly really
As it taught us to share and make do.
We'd the pictures, wireless, good neighbours
We just took it all in our stride,
Scrubbed yellow stone steps and
A black leaded range,
In fact we'd a lot - we had pride.