Janet Stead


Do We Care?

People crying, weeping sorrowfully for the dead,
The coffin is carried quietly down through the cobbled street,
Only a child; too young to know the true meaning of hate.

There are people, standing, watching, staring, asking who is that?
A young child dies and is laid to rest,
The parents thought it was for a good cause,
But people ask, who's that?
They do not know just why she died,

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