Up with the first light of day
No time for fun nor play!
Each and everyday.
The milk maid works the hours away.
No electric goods and convenience.
Life was hard and the days were long.
The ones that survived were strong.
To go against the declaration of the church was wrong.
Illness and disease in society was thronged.
The winter as harsh as a desert night.
The only lantern after dusk the moonlight.
And whale oil lit lamps
Mortality a daily struggle for survival.
The farmer dreading the Lords arrival.
To take his stipends of flesh and produce.
To object would lead to the noose.
This cruel world with cruel rule.
Would make anyone whimper and pule.
Though it was a simpler day
War was so faraway
Yet famine came like the seasons.
And death came to those whom commit treason.
The milk maid had great reason.
To churn the milk season after season.
To nourish the many in the valley below.
To make them strong in preparation for the deathly snow.
There were no heaters and no microwaves.
In fact you could only go out in the light of day.
As, soon as night fell, and the day was spent.
There was nothing more to be done is what I lament.
Perhaps read a book aside the fire.
Though education was for the rich and the poor could only aspire.
A life of hard work and seldom fun was the one
For the young milk maid.
Starting at 5 too young an age.
No fun for this lass
Other than a nice warm glass