Posted by Admin on 22 February 2009, 12:00 am
“How idyllic,” they zays, as they zees
our wol’ thatch, an’ the creeper wot grows
roun’ the door.
Wul, Oi z’pose they looks purdy to volk
vlush wi’ cash,
wot doan’ know wot ’tis like to be poor,
wi’ a vam’ly uv ten to be ved an’ kep’
clad, an’ one nipper wot’s zick’s
boun’ to die
vor a lack uv the needvul to pay
doctors’ bills, zo on zimples us got
to rely.
They doan’ know wot ’tis like to be left
vor to ztarve, when yor man’s bin put off
or p’raps killed,
an’ ztale crusts in ’ot water is all
theer’s to eat, or a turmet thee ztoled
vrom a vield.
They ain’t zeen despair on the vaces
uv young ’uns, when they’m told
the truth uv their lot –
that ztarvin’ they goes to the Workhuss,
or else to the wol’ churchyard plot.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council