Sidney Homer - Down Bye Street

Down Bye Street, in a little Shropshire town
There lived a widow with her only son
She had no wealth nor title to renown
Nor any joyous hours, never one
She rose from ragged mattress before sun
And stitched all day until her eyes were red
And had to stitch, because her man was dead
Her little son was all her life's delight
For in his little features she could find
A glimpse of that dead husband out of sight
Where out of sight is never out of mind
And so she stitched till she was nearly blind
Or till the tallow candle end was done
To get a living for her little son
Her love for him being such she could not rest
It was a want which ate her out and in
Another hunger in her withered breast
Pressing her woman's bones against the skin
To make him plump she starved her body thin
And he, he ate the food and never knew
He laughed and played as little children do
So years went on till Jimmy was a lad
And went to work as poor lads have to do
And then the widow's loving heart was glad
To know that all the pains she had gone through
And all the years of putting on the screw
Down to the sharpest turn a mortal can
Had borne their fruit and made her child a man