The Workhouse

In the year of 1853

So poor, it’s to the workhouse for me

No Mum, no Dad no family

I am just another bastard you see

Inside the place it’s cold and damp

I suffer ailments, like colds and cramp

Sitting here I feel so forlorn

Beginning to wish I had never been born

Work in the laundry from dawn to dusk

Living on gruel, and sometimes some rusk

Beaten, starved and they call this home

Is it no wonder I feel so alone

Only ten years old am I you see

I should be living happily

Skipping gaily as a child

A little girl so meek and mild

But here I am so often used

Beaten, damaged and abused

I work so hard every given day

but still get treated in this way

Mr Bartlett runs the home

I think he has a heart of stone

Takes no notice of my plight

Ignores my screams throughout the night

Young Johnny takes such a great delight

IN hurting me, this is my plight

Bullies others, just like me

Would tell but no one listens to me

Calloused hands and chilblains on my feet

As a child I’ve changed, no longer mild and sweet

I have to steal to stay alive

Or sell my body to survive

Another long day, a sad one too

I lost a friend her name was Sue

Found dead in a doorway, having run away

Starved, half naked some did say

My heart grows heavy by the day

In this place I have to stay

Washing, Ironing sheets and things

Whatever arrives, what the rich people bring

Today I feel so tired, my body weighs a ton

And the day has only just begun

By noon I need to go and rest

To an alcove I know best

Down in the cellar, cold and damp

I lie on rags, behind a ramp

Out of sight, not to be seen

No one will know where I have been

As time rolls by, sleep turns to passing

Another child not everlasting

My name is Jenny, but who cares

Just another orphan living downstairs

The plight of children in these times

Can’t be put into nursery rhymes

Sad but true, no one dared

In truth and reality no one cared

For the poor it was the workhouse plain and simple

To the rich, these people were just a pimple

On the backside of society

Not interested in Jenny and where she may be

Another lost soul, no one would miss

Was found early next morning, no one to kiss

Her goodbye, died all alone

No longer in that horrible home