ie: Manchester, New Hampshire, U.S.A.

Song of the Manchester Factory Girl
John H. Warland

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl
        So merry and glad and free -
The bloom on her cheeks, of health it speaks! -
        O a happy creature is she!
She tends the loom, she watches the spindle,
        And cheerfully talketh away;
Mid the din of wheels, how her bright eyes kindle!
        And her bosom is ever gay.

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl,
        Who hath breathed our mountain air, -
She toils for her home, and the joys to come
        To loved ones gathered there.
She tends the loom, she watches the spindle,
        And fancies her mother near -
How glows her heart, as her bright eyes kindle,
        And she thinks of her sisters dear!

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl,
        As she walks her spacious hall,
And trims the rose, and the orange that blows
        In the window, scenting all.
She tends the loom, and watches the spindle,
        And skips in the mountain air; -
I know by her eyes, as their bright lights kindle,
        That a queenly spirit is there.

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl,
        Whose task is easy and light -
She toileth away, till the evening gray,
        And her sleep is sweet and light -
She tends the loom, and watches the spindle,
        And O! she is honest and free -
I know by her laugh, as her bright eyes knidle,
        That few are happy as she.

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl,
        Whose fabric clothes the world;
From the king and his peers, to the jolly tars,
        With our flag on all seas unfurled.
From China's gold seas, to the tainted breeze
        That sweeps the smokened room -
Where "God save the Queen" to cry are seen
        The slaves of the British loom.

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl!
        Link not her name to the slaves, -
She is brave and free as the old elm tree,
        That over her homestead waves.
She tends the loom, she watches the spindle,
        And scorns the laugh and the sneer; -
I know by her lips as her bright eyes kindle,
        That a freeborn spirit is here.

O sing me a song of the Factory Girl,
        Ever honest and fair and true, -
Her name has rung, her deeds have been sung,
        O'er the land and the waters blue.
She tends the loom, she watches the spindle,
        And her words are cheerful and gay, -
O give me her smile, as her bright eyes kindle,
        And she toils and sings away.

O sing me the song of the Factory Girl,
        Who no titled lord doth own, -
Who, with treasures as rare, is more free from care
        Than a queen upon her throne.
She tends the loom, she watches the spindle,
        And parts her glossy hair, -
I know by her smile, as her bright eyes kindle,
        That a cheerful spirit is there.

God bless our Yankee Factory Girl!
        The rose of our mountains wild, -
Like a merry bird, shall her song be heard,
        Where'er sweet labor has smiled.
From our forests green, where the axe hath been,
        And the waters dance in the sun, -
Through the southern clime to the thunder chime
        Of the surging Oregon.

[Buckingham, J.T., Personal Memoirs and Recollections of Editorial Life, II, (Boston: Tickner, Reed & Fields, 1852, pp.207-209]

John H. Warland was one of America's first political songwriters.

For more on the popular concept of Whig pastoralism see Catherine M. Sedgewick: The Poor Rich Man, and the Rich Poor Man

The American Whig party was not long for the world in 1852. V.P. Millard Fillmore (1800 – 1874) had the dubious distinction of being the last Whig President of the United States and the only one who did not die in office or get expelled from the party.

The present day Republican party is the direct result of that schism and former Whig Abraham Lincoln would become the first Republican POTUS.