document.write("When my mother died I was very young,<br />And my father sold me while yet my tongue,<br />Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,<br />So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.<br /><br />Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head<br />That curled like a lambs back was shav\\\'d, so I said.<br />Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head\\\'s bare,<br />You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair<br /><br />And so he was quiet. & that very night.<br />As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight<br />That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack<br />Were all of them lock\\\'d up in coffins of black,<br /><br />And by came an Angel who had a bright key<br />And he open\\\'d the coffins & set them all free.<br />Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run<br />And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.<br /><br />Then naked & white, all their bags left behind.<br />They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.<br />And the Angel told Tom, if he\\\'d be a good boy,<br />He\\\'d have God for his father & never want joy.<br /><br />And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark<br />And got with our bags & our brushes to work.<br />Tho\\\' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm<br />So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.");