Only a Working Girl.
I know I am only a working girl,
And I am not ashamed to say
I belong to the ranks of those who toil
For a living, day by day.
With willing feet I press along
In the paths that I must tread,
Proud that I have the strength and skill
To earn my daily bread.
I belong to the “lower classes;”
That’s a phrase we often meet.
There are some who sneer at working girls;
As they pass us on the street,
They stare at us in proud disdain
And their lips in scorn will curl,
And oftentimes we hear them say:
“She’s only a working girl.”
“Only a working girl!” Thank God,
With willing hands and heart,
Able to earn my daily bread,
And in Life’s battle take my part.
You could offer me no title
I would be more proud to own,
And I stand as high in the sight of God
As the Queen upon her throne.
Those gentle folk who pride themselves
Upon their wealth and birth,
And look with scorn on those who have
Naught else but honest worth,
Your gentle birth we laugh to scorn,
For we hold it as our creed
That none are gentle, save the one
Who does a gentle deed.
