Dolly Mop

Well , I've taken the bull by the horns today. I quickly wrote this at breakfast time and almost gave Don apoplexy when I read it to him... poor man. Seems to think it's the type of thing that is often read out at poetry evenings... and says no wonder those events are so popular !

Briefly.... Imagine Victorian London. No work for women , young or old, unless you were fortunate and went into service, apprenticeship, shop work, sewing and the like. No welfare state. Only the workhouse waiting . So meet " Dolly Mop" a teenage prostitute . Mature beyond her years. Keeping hunger at bay for herself and the family. Who exploited who ?          
         

                   
             Dolly Mop

            I have a stance beneath the arch
           Where the railway passes by.
           I lift my skirts, show a leg
           To gentlemen passing by.

           A carriage stops - a hand appears,
           Beckons for me to come near.
           A whispered question on his lips
           So I toss my undeveloped  hips.

           Clean , Sir ? I douched with carbolic yesterday.
           Call me Lizzie, call me Mabel, call me what you may.
           With a tot of gin, I'll climb within -
           Then we can begin....

           Now, it's sixpence for a blow job.
           All the way- now that's a bob.
           In the carriage ? In the alley ? I don't mind.
           A kiss upon my brow ! That's really very kind.

           Some men are rough and I've grown tough,
           For all my tender years.
           One day I'll say ," I've had enough ".
           'Til then I do shed tears.

           Tonight I'm yours for half an hour.
           Do with me as you desire -
           I can set your loins afire,
           Within this carriage bower.

          That's a shilling sir. I thank you kind.
          My family will feast -
          And you've not been a beast,
          If I might say so ? You don't mind ?

          Come again, sir. Find me always here,
          Every night from dusk to dawn,
          For I go home at break of morn.
          Mother thinks that I serve beer.

          She doesn't know my trade, you see
          T'would be a shock to her-
          The shame she could not bear.
          You've been very kind to me.

          I take my stance beneath the arch
          Where the railway passes by,
          And lift my skirts, show a leg,
          To gentlemen passing by.

Thanks for reading, Kath (Lady Curt).