Get up!" the caller calls, "Get up!"
And in the dead of night,
To win the bairns their bite and sup,
I rise a weary wight.
My flannel dudden donn'd, thrice o'er
My birds are kiss'd, and then
I with a whistle shut the door,
I may not ope again.
Get Up!
Joseph Skipsey
(1)
Poem topics: kiss, night, whistle, rise, door, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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