Weary Traveler Poem by Jessica Reid

Oh weary traveler, how I rue the day
When I was joined to the black-sheep flock
I shall share to you this, if I may
It could come to you as a shock
I often sat perched on mounds of gold
silver spoon lodged in my bairn mouth
I did not know my soul had been sold
And that my life would soon spiral south
Father was always a greedy sow,
More feared than love’d by his kin
he hastily agreed to a fellow’s vow
one written on parchment of cowskin
to plague me with a wretched curse
so never would he own an empty purse