Yr. 10 Protest Poetry
The Crimes of London
I walk the darkened streets of London And hear the hungry children cry I hear the suffering, I see the pain As starving people, hopeless, die.
The church stands idle and shuts its eyes “Come forth,” it beams, “and see the light!” But the dark walls pall on weary souls And dim the eyes that once shone bright.
In merchant mansions and country homes They toast the king and crave his health While poor people and beg for crusts And count hot soup as their only wealth.
The hungry factories devour their workers As if they are the tiger’s prey, And labourers toil in greasy furnaces Longing for the end of their endless day.