Oh, life was very different then, it seems.
Let it be known that times were truly grim.
Did no one hear the pitiful, childish screams
Each night as the light was steadily growing dim?
Who among us has ever borne the pain
Of poverty, with offspring by the score?
Mystery shrouds how she even stayed quite sane
And stuck in that shoe with its soulless creaking floor!
No wonder she cracked and didn't know what to do
With children about from toe to rundown heel,
Hungry and huddled in a tiny worn out shoe;
On broth they dined sans pain for their only meal.
Little we know of hardships they all felt
In quarters so cramped and lacking a crust of bread
Visited nightly with whip or leathern belt.
Each of them surely experienced awful dread.
Did you think I could conjure a magical end
In this godawful tale of childhood abuse?
Neighbours, a wizard, a godmother friend?
A dogooder hero to set these kids loose?
Sorry, we're not in a fantasy land,
Horrors are many and miracles few.
Oh, for a world where such nightmares are banned -
Evil olde woman who lived in a shoe!
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