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. Theres Little Tom Dacre, Who Cried When His Head That Curled Like A Lambs Back Was Shav'D, 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 Lock'D Up In Coffins Of Black, And By Came An Angel Who Had A Bright Key And He Open'D 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. Tho' The Morning Was Cold, Tom Was Happy & Warm So If All Do Their Duty, They Need Not Fear Harm.