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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · History · #2230933
Writer's Cramp
Now is the winter of our discontent,
The workers are revolting,
We have no heat, no light, no food,
No normal means of cooking.

The freezer has defrosted now,
What food we have is wasted,
The candles fast are burning down,
The Unionists lambasted.

We all sit round the paraffin stove,
On top, the kettles boiling,
The candles flicker, the soup heats up,
No sympathy for those not toiling.

How do you boil the nappies,
How do you heat the milk?
How does babe sleep with no nightlight?
Sod the strikers and their ilk.

16 lines

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