He worked hard,
Each and every hour,
For he wanted that card,
That will aid his family of four.

Under the sweltering heat,
He exerted with enthusiasm,
Without stopping a beat,
He laboured with a spasm.

His master tortured him,
Day and night,
Yet his determination was in no dim,
And did his job without a fight.

His family was in a slum,
He had no other way,
But to live like a plum,
Getting squeezed with little pay.

His was a soul,
That had seen so much,
It was not foul,
Although he had experienced a bunch.

This sweet man,
Was spat at,
But was never a deterred van,
That was aiming for the stand.

Will he ever be satisfied,
When his sweet babies,
Were empty bellied,
Whilst he made a day two pennies?

Was his fate,
Or his master,
That were at stake,
From loss of the plaster?

**

©VioletEden