My mother was a harlot,
My father was a clerk;
My mother wore scarlet,
My father a coat dark.
They met once only.
Parted at morn —
But from that lone lie
Was I born.
When she grew bigger,
Mother in dread
Pinched in her figure,
Bore me dead.
They buried my body
Deep in a hole.
And prayed to God He
Would save my soul.
From: Sitwell, Edith (ed.), Wheels, 1920 (Fifth Cycle), 1920, B. H. Blackwell: Oxford, p. 43.
(https://archive.org/details/1920wheelsanthol05oxfouoft)
Date: 1920
By: Leah McTavish Cohen (fl. 1920)
From Troubles of The World 