Get Up!

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Get up!" the caller calls, "Get up!"
  And in the dead of night,
  To win the bairns their bite and sup,
  I rise a weary wight.

  My flannel dudden donn'd, thrice o'er
  My birds are kiss'd, and then
  I with a whistle shut the door,
  I may not ope again.

© Joseph Skipsey