Weavers used to post messages and sometimes poems on the shed door. I don't know where you'd find the equivalent nowadays....
The Wheel of Life.
Author unknown. Dated 1881
We stand at the wheel of life and spin
And we draw the life threads to and fro
And the dark and the light go blending in
And the daylights come and the daylights go.
And our feet grow tired of the weary tread
And our hands grow tired with the endless toil
But each human soul must spin its thread
And wind and colour it coil by coil
We stand at the loom of life and weave
The garb that our souls must ever wear
And look at the faded web and grieve
At the broken ends and the seam of care
For we cannot see as the days go by
And the wheel whirls on in its dull routine
That we let the fibres run all awry
And that in the web they will all be seen
But all must stand at the wheel and spin
And whether the woof be good or ill
The robe that we meet our maker in
Is woven here at the weaver’s will
To the spirit guiding its work with care
A wiser than he will the web unroll
And under the shuttle of patient prayer
Will the garment shine in a perfect whole.
[When Elva Martin, a weaver at Bancroft Shed in Barlick, retired in 1978 she wrote a letter to her workmates thanking them for her leaving present and pinned it to the shed door alongside this handwritten poem.]
