Born on the streets in the rain
In the rain on the streets, she would die
With no one to mourn and shed sad tears
No one to pity and sigh
Born on the unlucky day she was
Was seven when she died, of age
Her unhappy life of sorrow and pain
Passed slowly stage by stage
The autumn leaves were floating slowly down
Dead, miserable and dirty brown
To the passers-by
on the street
They were a delightful treat’s
It’s autumn time a lovely sight
A season filled with love and delight
And the little girl seated on the old tree stump
Tried to smile through unhappy tears
Her’s was the life of the old brown leaves
A figure so frail with a burden to bear.
She got down from her perch and sighed
Picked up a leaf and looked into it;
It reflected her life from her birth till she died.
But who cared when people were so gay?
She shut off the gloomy thoughts
The dark side of the moon,
And on the grass, she lay
Wondering about her future
What all was in store for her
How many would such more autumns pass?
In sorrow and in despair.
At last, she sighed and decided
That she really was not to care.
So what if her dress was torn
Her coarse brown feet bare?
Embedded in the little-burnt face
A pair of large coal black eyes scared and bold
Looked untidy but from inside
Carried a heart of gold
Soon the fiery autumn
Gave away to icy winter
Winds blowing her thin frail hair
Hands and feet all brown and bare
Frost and ice all battled with her
Her moans they loved to mock
Winter passed with the girl shivering
Under her tom, cotton frock.
Then came spring
And started to bring
Hope to her lone lost soul
Slowly and sadly same as ever
The months started to roll
The hot dry summer arrived
The warmth of the sun revived
Pretty few survived
This horrid season of heat
Our little lady decided
That God wished her to live.
But alas! She was wrong
She hunted from place to place
Looking desperately for work
But the cold cruel doors of bungalows
Remained as ever closed
People shut them on her face
As from door to door, she raced
Knowing she would soon starve away to death.
She somehow survived the summer
Then came monsoon bringing rain
And inevitably with it raging pain
The end of the girl was near
But who wiped her tears?
Then came that fateful night
That cold wet frightening night
The wind gave a terrible moan
The cars at a distance droned
The leaves swished the lightning flashed
The thunder rumbled and roared
And the little girl stood alone.
Alone, watching the cars creep
Alone, when the world was asleep
Alone, alone, and ready to weep
The clouds wept, the cars swept
The silver moonlight the clouds kept
The girl stared longingly
At the lass in a mackintosh
The pretty girl in the mackintosh
Stepping daintily over slush
The little girl in tattered clothes
The little girl who never had a wash
The pretty girl in a mackintosh
Hair in curls, head high in pride
A servant with an umbrella at her side.
Slashing the slush with dainty strides.
As she passed the little girl who tried
Her tom shirt desperately to hide
“Young miss! Please do abide!
I have house not parents o
Only this Dress full of rents
I have shoes nor books
Nor your pretty looks!
But I plead with you,
Lend me an ear
And no one to me
Shall ever be so dear
I’m poor and miserable, do help me
I do not beg; give me a job
Flog me, scold me, whip me big and small
Feed me with stale black bread
Or give me none at all.
But do not leave me in the killing cold
This pouring rain! “The girl told
Click, opened the Royce door
Click! It closed
In a tick!
“Oh! Oh dear miss-listen to me!
Don’t, do not leave me here, oh miss!
Oh, you cursed, wicked, rich folk!
Oh you cruel murderers
You killers of innocent poor folk!
Oh, do you have a heart of rock?
Does it not melt in our pitiful state?
But my curse will decide your fate
You will die as cruel a death as well
As I die today
Tortured with agony and misery
You will all suffer in hell
May you all be punished!”
The girl screamed and fell down
Her eyes closed, she shivered
And lay back in eternal place.
The rain ceased to a drizzle.
Drops of rain fell onto her matted hair
Drops of rain covered her stone-still body.
She slept peacefully,
Peacefully never to wake
Leaving the world of hate
The girl lay there alone
Alone while the world slept
Alone, the little girl slept
Born on the streets in the rain,
In the rain on the street, she was dead
Pretty and frail and peaceful
The muddy wet road her bead.