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I am a chimbley, a chimbley sweep |
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No bed to lie, no shoes to hold my feet |
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Upon the rooftops in dead of night |
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You'll hear me cry, I'll shake you from your sleep |
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To hear me weep |
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"Your day will come indeed |
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For I am a poor and a wretched boy |
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A chimbley, chimbley sweep." |
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I am an orphan, an orphan boy |
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I've known no love, I've seen no mother's joy |
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A dirty doorstep my cradle laid |
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My fortune's made, I'll shake you from your sleep |
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To hear me weep |
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"Your day will come indeed |
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For I am a poor and a wretched boy |
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A chimbley, chimbley sweep." |
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"O lonely urchin!" the widow cried, |
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"I've not been swept since the day my husband died." |
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Her cheeks are blushing, her legs laid bare |
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And shipwrecked there, I'll shake you from your sleep |
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To hear me weep |
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"Your day will come indeed |
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For I am a poor and a wretched boy |
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A chimbley, chimbley sweep." |
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For I am a poor and a wretched boy |
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A chimbley, chimbley sweep |
