I'm the Iron Needle-Woman! Wrought of sterner stuff than clay;And, unlike the drudges human, Never weary night or day;Never shedding tears of sorrow, Never mourning friends untrue,Never caring for the morrow, Never begging work to do.
Poverty brings no disaster! Merrily I glide along,For no thankless, sordid master, Ever seeks to do me wrong:No extortioners oppress me, No insulting words I dread --I've no children to distress me With unceasing cries for bread.
I'm of hardy form and feature, For endurance framed aright;I'm not pale misfortune's creature, Doomed life's battle here to fight:Mine's a song of cheerful measure, And no under-currents flowTo destroy the throb of pleasure Which the poor so seldom know.
In the hall I hold my station, With the wealthy ones of earth,Who commend me to the nation For economy and worth,While unpaid the female labor, In the attic-chamber lone,Where the smile of friend or neighbor Never for a moment shone.
My creation is a blessing To the indigent secured,Banishing the cares distressing Which so many have endured:Mine are sinews superhuman, Ribs of oak and nerves of steel --I'm the Iron Needle-Woman Born to toil and not to feel.
