Saturday, 28 March 2015


Work, girl,
Work, girl
Says the man
With the whip,
Work harder
Don't give me no lip

So I work,
I work
I work on that tip;
I carry the coal sack,
Ladle the shit,
Soak them ashes
In the urine pit.

Later the Lady
With the ivory skin
Pulls back her skirts
Flares her nostrils
And squirms:
"Really! How can
The poor expect
To get a-head
If they cannot
Keep clean?"

I nod and prod
A coal to life
And she sniffs
At the lavender
Tucked in her cuff.


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