Mar 232015

images-9She Was Poor But She Was Honest

by Anonymous

She was poor but she was honest,
Victim of a rich man’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 a 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?’


Then the wife of the politician                                                                   

came to visit the hospital bed

Gave her clothes and gave her money

“Take these things to get ahead.”


My husband’s shame does weight heavy

On my heart and in my soul,

A woman’s love is the solution

Nothing sexual, but something whole.


To the country I will send you

to my daughter’s home of rest

She is strong and she is gentle,

You will be a welcome guest.


Then she saw the rich woman’s daughter,

Standing gently by the door,

Wearing a shirt and well pressed trousers,

Striking terror to the maiden’s core.


“Oh, my love I see your terror,

Rest assured, this room is mine,

You will be a loving sister,

For on you, there’s  no design”


Six months later after midnight,

Touching trousers still well pressed,

Slipped the maid under the covers,

‘Till she claimed her lover’s breast.



Now, they live a life together

On a farm in sunny Spain,

Laughing, loving one another

Nothing lost, but all things gained!



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