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