Theres a lady in the high street
She doesnt know her name
She wears worn out sandals
She whistles when it rains.
The label theyve pinned
It reads like a book
Telling those from without
How she should look.
Its the cruelty of folk
Who know not her tears
She lost her child to disease
Now she fights with her fears.
And what of the gent who saw two wars
A lopsided tieknot and nicotined fingers
He stoops as he walks mumbling curses
Thinks hes a poet but cant find the verses.
To tell how theyve treated him
Since shrapnel blew half his senses away
He wanders, he walks
Cursing the day.