Make Feet for Children's Stockings

Lyrics

Down at the Copper Kettle, the air is thick with smoke
A shilling for the claret, a farthing for the trick
We look up at the windows of the manor on the rise
The boys expect a vulgar noun to make the locals sick
But a gentleman must wrap his dirt in something rather good
To keep the parlor separate from the tavern and the mud

What is the labor in the quiet and the gloom?
What is the study in the upper drawing room?
They are pulling out the worsted, they are working in the dark
They are taking up the measure where the embers leave a spark
To make feet for children's stockings
To make feet for children's stockings

She never heard our lexicon, she wouldn't know the smell
Of the heavy, blunt artillery we toss around the bar
But the brain runs a ledger before the jaw can drop
Trading out the taproom for the haberdasher's door
With a three-ply yarn from the Leicestershire mills
We dress up our intent in a domestic kind of thrill

What is the labor in the quiet and the gloom?
What is the study in the upper drawing room?
They are pulling out the worsted, they are working in the dark
They are taking up the measure where the embers leave a spark
To make feet for children's stockings
To make feet for children's stockings

Purl and slip, the rhythm catches hold
Keeping out the winter, keeping out the damp
We raise a mug of porter to the needle and the thread
To the furious, blind clicking by the oil of the lamp
Two vocabularies, one for them and one for us
But we all know what requires such a dedicated push

Just turning the heel
Binding the toe
A little more wool in the firelight's glow
And a foot falls softly on a floor we'll never know