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THE WAIF

 

Spare a thought for the poorly child

wherever they may be;

Give freely for that tragic child

at home or o’er the sea.

 

Neglected mites of this great world,

such plights mar all mankind;

Their minds not on God like some,

but where a meal to find.

 

I see those faces, black and white,

some of a yellow tinge;

To squat and wonder, watch or stare,

from corners perhaps to cringe.

 

To have enough is blessed and well

through the famished eye;

Pay heed all ye who would pass by,

help them before they die.

 

Monty Alexander 28.5.99

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