Her eyes were sunken into the night ,
how once they lit up so bright ,
like the light of a thousand candles,
lifted high on a chandelier.

Once she glowed with an   inner light ,
of innocence cast into the night
a love that shone like a burning hue ,

and lived without a care .
She dressed in what her mother gave her ,
her ever loving mother though could not save her ,
for her mother left ,
when she fell for a sailor .
so then she dressed for whoever she liked
and so she came to answer to what ever name he gave her . fr.    Touted from dawn till  twilight ,
her eyes grew dim and their  lights burnt out .
Then one day she gave birth to her son ,
killed by her own hands ,
for it had to be done .
Cast aside ,
with not even a welfare state to provide,
Into a paupers  grave .
Her mother now all skin and bone
for morning afternoon breakfast  lunch ,
and a sip of gin ,
for every grin .

So she tied a ribbon to her hair ,
Which once was neat now ***** and black ,
But at least she looked pritty ,
for when the men came back .

So they dressed her in her favourite gown ,
with a daisy and a ribbon around her waste and hair ,
a nameless grave an empty mouth ,
but at last a. beautiful saviour ,
to meet her there .