The Workhouse Poem by Owen Cullimore

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 chilblained 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