This peice was inspired by Charles Dickens and the terrible conditions that children were forced to work in...
I tried to capture a little bit of the kind hearted people that were alive at that time, but were unable to speak out or so anything about these terrible conditions. Also, I added the coldness of upper class society.
Enjoy, and comment!
Clarence The Coal Boy
Clarence the coal boy walked up the street
To deliever the coal that brings people heat.
He worked hard all day for no more than a pound,
Making delieveries to the rich on his rounds.
Doing a man's work at the young age of thirteen,
He pulled to coal cart like no one had seen!
Through the sun warmed mornings he sweated and strained,
He perservered through the drenching rain.
The inter months brought that snowy chill,
And that's when Clarence the coal boy became very ill.
He carried the coal for one whole mile,
Always greeting the customers with a warm smile.
Bowing gracefully and tipping his hat,
He would say, "That's wnough coal there sir. I garuntee that."
I noticed Clarence would come later and later,
His face pale and grimaced like an old understaker.
I asked him if he had been eating enough.
In reply Clarence said, 'It's just a bit of a cough."
Watching him walk away I began to worry.
The snow began to fall in an ominous flurry.
Then Clarence stopped coming, and instead an old man.
His frame bent and shaking with small white hands.
I asked him of Clarence and all that he said
Was, "He won't come 'round. The young lad is dead."
No one noticed that Clarence was gone.
No one except me, the rest all just yawned.
Lost in their materialistic shrouds,
They all forgot Clarence,
Who delivered coal to them on his rounds.