The Little Beggar Boy

Once upon a winter
In London eighteen fifty-five,
The cold was harsh and merciless
Taking many lives.

This ballad is a story
Of one such frozen night
The moon shone down on snowfall
Bathing it in silver light.

Rats were dying on the streets
The wind was almost wild
Then came twisting round the alleys,
A little beggar child.

The beggar boy came walking
Barely eight was he,
But wiser than his years; he knew
The winter’s cruelty.

He had tasted his own hunger,
His feet were all but bare
Threadbare clothes adorned him,
Unsheilding from the frosty air.

He walked around in circles
But then he came to know
He’d lost his way in smoth’ring fog
He didn’t know where to go.

He thought a while then headed for
The richer side of town.
He hoped that he’d get shelter there
Until his way he’d found.

He came upon a high – end house
With a knocker made of gold
But he could barely move it
He was dying of the cold.

Now in that home a lady lived
Maids at her call and beck.
Rubies studded in her ears
And diamonds hanging round her neck.

‘I need somewhere to sleep the night
a bowl of soup, perhaps some bread.
Could you offer me your service?
May God bless you,’ he said.

Now that lady was a rich one
Her clothes of finest make.
She could afford to give that boy
Not only bread but cake.

But her heart was hard as stone
As cold as that night of steel
He riches had but numbed her
Suffering she could not feel.

‘Be gone with you, you urchin,
You’ve been sleeping on the streets!
How dare you tread my doorstep
With your filthy feet!’

‘Oh please,’ cried he, and grabbed her hand
And stared with soulful eyes
But no mercy did the woman have
She left him out in snow and ice.

The wind, it had picked up by then,
The cold was screaming slaughter,
Alone there stood a beggar boy,
Without any food or water,

He gave up and he gave in
To his death that dwelleth near,
Succumbing to the winter
Crying without a single tear.

Next morning when the sun rose,
The lady heard her knocker knock
She stepped outside to see what was
But she got a nasty shock.

For the little beggar boy
Whom she had denied any bread
Was now frozen on her doorstep
Lying still, now dead.

She touched his icy fingers,
Saddened at his fate
She wished she had been kinder,
But alas! It was too late.