The Hungry Ones
We were urchins during the war
Dirty filthy unwashed kids
Lived in London during the blitz
Scabby skin and flea ridden hair
A mum or dad who just didn’t care
Hungry mites in war torn days
Who lived by their wits
To keep starvation at bay
Thieving food from local shops
One for all we shared the lot
Freshly bombed out local homes
Urchin kids would love to roam
Searching for things to steal
To sell and buy a proper meal
Some died within these crater traps
As floors gave in and roofs collapsed
The smell of fresh roasted flesh
Fire’s smouldering the sign of death
Urchins dig and pull and tug
A rabbit like body roasted we did love
The flesh is hot and tastes quite sweet
But unknown to us, it’s a cat we eat
We collect newspaper by the ton
Brass and copper lead and steel
Sell it all to buy our meals
Bread and dripping a mug of tea
The daily diet in war time days
Urchins of London ate in other ways
Steal a rabbit or milk from a cart
Run amuck in a bakers and steal some tarts
Raid allotments for carrots and peas
Sell it all for the food we need
Mostly cakes and chocolate buns
For they called us the urchins
The hungry ones
Peter, part of my life and times
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