| I am a chimbley, a chimbley sweep
|
| No bed to lie, no shoes to hold my feet
|
| Upon the rooftop in dead of night
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| You’ll hear me cry, I’ll shake you from your sleep
|
| To hear me weep
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| «Your day will come indeed
|
| For I am a poor and a wretched boy
|
| A chimbley, chimbley sweep.»
|
| I am an orphan, an orphan boy
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| I’ve known no love, I’ve seen no mother’s joy
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| A dirty doorstep my cradle laid
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| My fortune’s made, I’ll shake you from your sleep
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| To hear me weep
|
| «Your day will come indeed
|
| For I am a poor and a wretched boy
|
| A chimbley, chimbley sweep.»
|
| «O lonely urchin!» |
| the widow cried
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| «I've not been swept since the day my husband died.»
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| Her cheeks are blushing, her legs laid bare
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| And shipwrecked there, I’ll shake you from your sleep
|
| To hear me weep
|
| «Your day will come indeed
|
| For I am a poor and a wretched boy
|
| A chimbley, chimbley sweep.»
|
| For I am a poor and a wretched boy
|
| A chimbley, chimbley sweep |