A child
\nA baby truthfully
\nKind of living with the fright
\nHaving to leave his rickety bed
\nIn the dead of night
\nBehind his fathers barrow
\nGrit cutting his toes
\nNo food really to speak of
\nWith the problems that does pose<\/p>\n
Sorting bricks
\nRe-stacking them
\nDusty wretched bricks
\nBroken one heap
\nWhole another
\nWhat we do we reap
\nChildren mostly babies
\nWorking all the day
\nFor nothing just
\nSore hands and feet
\nAnd a back too
\nMany say<\/p>\n
Limping back behind the barrow
\nWeary as can be
\nCallow and unfallen
\nExhausted yes truly
\nThe drudgery of being
\nDark sweat on his brow
\nGruelling punishing
\nBurdensome
\nAsking quietly how<\/p>\n
And why he has to work all day
\nThe grind the slog the pain
\nThe bricks get heavier
\nHis hands get sore
\nReally in the main
\nThere is no respite
\nAnd his chore
\nGrows harder by the day
\nEvery nerve and every sinew
\nHurts……<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A child A baby truthfully Kind of living with the fright Having to leave his rickety bed In the dead of night Behind his fathers barrow Grit cutting his toes No food really to speak of With the problems that … Continue reading