SIX O’CLOCK.
Tis after six, and he’s not in! 1 he children hear her voice grow* sad, And wonder if they should begin Their tea or —wait for dad! Tis pay-day; but despair’s not yet! She’ll keep the good meal warm awhile; But seven strikes, her eyes grow wet, And all have ceased to smile. The children, settled safe in bed, She sits alone, with fear to start, And ev’ry hour, with tones of lead, Seems striking at her heart. Then on her knees, distraught in mind, She prays, while words and sobs e’er mix, “Oh, God. jrrant law's of any kind That send men home at six.” —M.T.T., in the “S.M. Herald.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19171119.2.10
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White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 269, 19 November 1917, Page 5
Word count
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113SIX O’CLOCK. White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 269, 19 November 1917, Page 5
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