As I walked down the waterside This silent morning, wet and dark; Before the cocks in farmyards crowed, Before the dogs began to bark; Before the hour of five was struck By old Westminster's mighty clock:
As I walked down the waterside This morning, in the cold damp air, I was a hundred women and men Huddled in rags and sleeping there: These people have no work, thought I, And long before their time they die.
That moment, on the waterside, A lighted car came at a bound; I looked inside, and saw a score Of pale and weary men that frowned; Each man sat in a huddled heap, Carried to work while fast asleep.
Ten cars rushed down the waterside Like lighted coffins in the dark; With twenty dead men in each car, That must be brought alive by work: These people work too hard, thought I, And long before their time they die.