the house was built in 1850, seven fireplaces
10 servants and four members of the Joneses
on the cold windy october day
no holes in the roof or trees
destroying the east side
on a even windier day
There was rooms galore, green baize doors
just for us servants
we knew our place, we didn't want to get higher
overwhelming at first, with bedraggled
walls, because it was just us
the pantry was old Tom's responsibility
wine, sugar, salt and tea
only he could give it out
and mrs sue, the cook, gave us
jobs to do if we dawdled past
clean the aga! ,
isn't it wash day today?
hurry up and clean the pots,
the queens cousin is
due tonight, whilst hoping
i got to bed before midnight was a regular thing
the Joneses never met me, i wasn't
a butler or a footmen
i had to clean before they got up
and hide behind the baize door
if i heard them
living there 365 days of the year, gave me the family i was never given
i turned 12 in 1850 and the poor house got me this job
the job where i met Lottie the kitchen assistant
and philip the gardeners assistant, siblings they became
and old Tom became like a dad
mrs Sue was just scary
and now its 1925, i still mourn the day
they moved away, wanted the factories
but not the smog
at 87 i will not see the blitz blow the house away like a sandcastle
but tonight i am going to dream of 1850 and the family i will once again meet
'lottie, where is Philip? mrs jones wants a bouquet for dinner'
back to being an general maid happily once again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well conceived and nicely brought forth with clarity of thought and mind. I liked the visionary impact of flow of your words. A beautiful creation piece of poetry.