The Wanton Harlot: Her Story Poem by Paula Glynn

His saucy Wanton Harlot,
Came from a poor family,
In a poor village,
England in the harsh era,
Of the Victorian times.

The streets were dirty and rough,
But they were her home,
She had left her village,
Years before,
To find a better home.

Instead she became,
A Wanton Harlot,
The Victorian's version,
Of a prostitute,
And it was a harsh world,
Especially with Jack the Ripper.

But she tried not to worry:
She had her regular customers,
All satisfied with her services,
The men out on drunken nights,
Leaving wives and children,
At home in their tiny houses.

One day she met John,
And he seemed so honest,
He was very charming,
And called her,
His saucy Wanton Harlot.

But soon she faced him,
With her dying blue eyes,
Her heart broken,
As she left her home:
The dirty, rough streets,
Of a city she had grown to love.

But the angels came to greet her,
And showed her John's hell,
That had seen her die,
And would cast on John,
A wicked, evil spell.