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Woman from the slum |
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Early morn she rings the bell Wakes me from my sleep Greets me with folded hands It makes me want to weep Leaves her slippers outside the door She smiles her daily smile I wish she just wouldn’t show up Allowing me to sleep a while She starts her daily chores By heading for the sink Bangs the pots and pans around Perhaps cleaning them, I think Sweeping first with an old broom She then starts to swab the floor And all the while I am just wishing That I could sleep some more She goes about dusting the place Putting away my dirty clothes Doing all those menial jobs All those tasks one loathes
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All this while I laze around In my pillow bury my head And though I wish she wasn’t here That she may not come, I dread She makes life much easier for me Though her very presence I ignore For my kind would forever find Housework a menial chore God know if she gets enough sleep Enough food or even if she has a roof Because she’s my maidservant I must always remain aloof Her tasks done she leaves my flat With yet another cheery smile Though what she has to smile about To figure out would take a while At month’s end I give her what’s due Which in fact, is a paltry sum For all the work she does for me This woman from the slum
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