The Washer Woman’s Song

From The Birmingham Age-Herald, April 2, 1913.
 By Tronquill.
 

 In a very humble cot,
 In a rather quiet spot,
 In the suds and in the soap,
 Worked a woman full of hope;
 Working, singing all alone,
 In a sort of undertone,
 “With a savior for a friend,
 He will keep me to the end.”
 
 Sometimes happening along,
 I had heard the semisong,
 And I often used to smile
 More in sympathy than guile;
 But I never said a word
 In regard to what I heard,
 As she sang about her friend
 Who would keep her to the end.
 
 Not in sorrow nor in glee,
 Working all day long was she,
 As her children, three or four,
 Played around her on the floor;
 But in monotones the song
 She was humming all day long,
 “With the savior for a friend,
 He will keep me to the end.”
 
 It’s a song I do not sing,
 For I scarce believe a thing
 Of the stories that are told
 Of the miracles of old;
 But I know that her belief
 Is the anodyne of grief,
 And will always be a friend
 That will keep her to the end.
 
 Just a trifle lonesome she,
 Just as poor as poor could be,
 But her spirit always rose
 Like the bubbles in the clothes.
 And, though widowed and alone,
 Cheered with the monotone,
 Of a Savior and a friend,
 Who would keep her to the end.
 
 I have seen her rub and scrub
 On the washboard in the tub,
 While the baby sopped in suds,
 Rolled and tumbled in the duds;
 Or was paddling in the pools
 With old scissors stuck in spools,
 She still humming of her friend
 Who would keep her to the end.
 
 Human hopes and human creeds
 Have their root in human needs;
 And I would not wish to strip
 From that washer woman’s lip
 Any song that she can sing,
 Any hope that song can bring.
 For the woman has a friend
 Who will keep her to the end.