SARAH OWEN

Come, children, gather round and hark

To my entrancing tale!

For though you've heard of Joan of Arc,

Of brave Grace Darling in her barque,

Of Florence Nightingale,

Not one of these such nerve displayed

As Sarah Owen, sewing-maid!

Her master ranged his forty-two

Domestics in a row.

As from his breast the Bill he drew,

‘ Shall this be borne,’ he asked,‘ by you?’

Though forty-one said‘ No!’

‘ My threepence will be gladly paid!’

Said Sarah Owen, sewing-maid.

In vain his head the butler shook,

The gard'ner' s grins grew broad,

The housemaids wore a scornful look,

‘ What imperence!’ exclaimed the cook,

The‘ handy man’ guffawed.

Serene, intrepid, unafraid,

Stood Sarah Owen, sewing-maid!

And whether she was right or wrong,

She showed a dauntless will,

A firm resolve, a purpose strong,

Which move me like a battle-song

And make my bosom thrill!

The fame and name shall never fade

Of Sarah Owen, sewing-maid!