As I walked down the waterside 
This silent morning, wet and dark; 
Before the cocks in farmyards crowed, 
Before the dogs began to bark; 
Before the hour of five was struck 
By old Westminster's mighty clock:

As I walked down the waterside 
This morning, in the cold damp air, 
I was a hundred women and men 
Huddled in rags and sleeping there: 
These people have no work, thought I, 
And long before their time they die.

That moment, on the waterside, 
A lighted car came at a bound; 
I looked inside, and saw a score 
Of pale and weary men that frowned; 
Each man sat in a huddled heap, 
Carried to work while fast asleep.

Ten cars rushed down the waterside 
Like lighted coffins in the dark; 
With twenty dead men in each car, 
That must be brought alive by work: 
These people work too hard, thought I, 
And long before their time they die.