Saturday, December 29, 2012

The Echo


(We are asked to use the three words in blue.)


The echo of their voices comes winging down the years,

Speaking very softly, full of pain and desperate tears.

Their spouses have loud voices;  they bully and they shout.

They do not need to whisper; they know what  life's about.

'Don't answer back, my lady! Or else you'll feel my belt!

And don't you dare complain about the hand that you've been dealt!

How dare you mention hardship! So you're slaving night and morn!

Don't you realise, you fool, that 's the reason you were born!

Try telling your story to the police! They'd  say you waste their time!

If I beat you it's a 'domestic' and not counted as a crime.'

The voices of the women come whispering down the years

However softly they're speaking the heart of a woman hears.


We're never far from the water,

Never far from ships.

There are those that carry the coal out
And those that go on trips.
But here we have the fishing-fleet
Rocking at its ease,
Smelling of its cargo
And all the surrounding seas.

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