Poetry Sunday

It's easier to be poor but honest than rich but honest, if you ask me ...

Poor But Honest

by Anonymous

She was poor, but she was honest,

   Victim of the squire's whim:

First he loved her, then he left her,

   And she lost her honest name.

Then she ran away to London,

   For to hide her grief and shame;

There she met another squire,

   And she lost her name again.

See her riding in her carriage,

   In the Park and all so gay:

All the nibs and nobby persons

   Come to pass the time of day.

See the little old-world village

   Where her aged parents live,

Drinking the champagne she sends them;

   But they never can forgive.

In the rich man's arms she flutters,

   Like a bird with broken wing:

First he loved her, then he left her,

   And she hasn't got a ring.

See him in the splendid mansion,

   Entertaining with the best,

While the girl that he has ruined,

   Entertains a sordid guest.

See him in the House of Commons,

   Making laws to put down crime,

While the victim of his passions

   Trails her way through mud and slime.

Standing on the bridge at midnight,

   She says: 'Farewell, blighted Love.'

There's a scream, a splash-Good Heavens!

   What is she a-doing of?

Then they drag her from the river,

   Water from her clothes they wrang,

For they thought that she was drownded;

   But the corpse got up and sang:

'It's the same the whole world over;

   It's the poor that gets the blame,

It's the rich that get the pleasure.

   Isn't it a blooming shame?'

Yes, it is a blooming shame ... especially when your government is owned by the ultra-wealthy who believe poverty is a choice and safety nets are a waste of money unless they provide safety for big business.

Have a good day, enjoy the rest of your weekend, and be thankful for what you have.

More thoughts coming.

Bilbo