The Begging Bowl
Looking back over three score years and ten
Poverty and hunger was the poor man’s lot
A disgrace and indictment our historians’ forgot….
As a child of poverty in Britain’s great lands
The pains of hunger and the craving for food
Was your constant companion that haunted you….
We begged in shops for stale old cakes, rotten apples
Brick hard bread they gave to us skeleton like kids
From their dustbins we take and rob all that was edible
Food that was moldy but tasty to eat, placating the hunger
Us war kids did keep…
“Make do dinners” was the catch word in those far off days
Bread and dripping and cabbage and sprouts powdered eggs
Fatty breast of lamb rolled up in spuds, plumb duff and treacle
Marmite and OXO and a doorstep of bread, mother put on tables so their children are fed…
But the begging bowl is back once more as a moronic heartless Government starts robbing the poor, stealing the money that Was meant for the kids, cutting and ripping the whole welfare state, to pay out the millions to bankers we hate….
Now it’s time for the riots, to get rid of this lot, to take back
All of the clothes they wrenched from your backs and give us
Our dignity that’s trampled afoot by the scum of vast millions who haven’t a clue what living in harsh poverty can do me and you….
We are fighting a class war of “Them and “Us” and we must crush them and beat ”Them” and they must not win, or watch all of your children suffer in pain as the demon of hunger haunts Britain again….
Peter Wicks
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