1933

1933



Life in the Depression


I'd weed your garden Mrs
If you'd give me a cup of tea
I'd be ever so grateful Mrs
If you'd spare a crust for me.

Been on the road eight months Mrs
And my clothes are wearing out
But I still have a bit of pride Mrs
So I work my way about.

What's that you said to me Mrs?
Come in! do you mean that?
Into the warmth of your kitchen Mrs
Then I'll wipe my feet on the mat.

A drop of soup in a bowl Mrs?
And I can sleep in the barn?
Wait till I tell my mates Mrs
They'll never believe this yarn.


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