Res's Writing and Poetry

Friday, 15 March 2013

"Homeless London 1961"

Arlington House

The Camden Town Rowton House

Homeless London 1961

I remember the rain, the hunger and pain

The cold that burnt under my skin

The long sleepless nights when I lost all my rights

Because homelessness then was a sin

There was Sally Ann* if you were in a jam

The Rowton House* or the Spike*

But if you hadn’t the bread to pay for your bed

You could “Piss off! On yer bike!”

So at night I would stray Covent Garden way

And pick up fruit and veg from the gutter

Some porters would fuss and some of ‘em cuss

But most of ‘em would only mutter

With thruppence to pay, a nice cuppa tay

At the tea stall with it’s spoon on a chain

It was warm and was wet and the best I could get

Standing out there in the rain

One could sleep in the Park, bugger that for a lark

Stretching out on an old park seat

‘Cos Old Bill would nick you or often just kick you

And then you were back on the street

If you could beg ,borrow, steal, just thruppence, a deal

The best place to sleep that I found

On the Circle Line train, you’d sleep out of the rain

Going round and around underground

Another shilling a day was needed to pay

For the locker where I kept my pack

A wash and brush up just might change my luck

And a cleanish shirt for my back

All day I would seek for some work for a week

Or a day, or a meal, all that mattered

But London’s a hard city and hadn’t much pity

For the young and the hungry and shattered

Sometimes you just might, find work for a night

Washing up in some swank eating house

But the job was no snap and the wages were crap

And they treated you worse than a louse

Some said we were lazy but that is just crazy

Nobody starves for a choice

But the weaker you grow the less chances show

And the smaller and smaller your voice

So months of poor diet, you really should try it

It’s not something you’d find very merry

Your swelling feet, see, means you lack vitamin B

And you know that you’ve got beri beri

To the vagrant population of this capital nation

It was known as Skippers Foot

And the agonizing pain bombarded your brain

And you thought that your life was kaput

London’s such a rich city it is such a pity

The hospitals don’t want to know

“Your legs will get worse, come back when they burst.

And now it is time that you go!”

Luckily I had a friend, who helped me in the end

Gave me food and a bed for a while

Then with the loan of ten bob* I soon found me a job

And soon I was living in style.

· The ‘Sally Ann” (Salvation Army), Rowton Houses and the ‘Spike” were hostels for the poor and homeless but only supplied accommodation at a price.
There were ‘Receiving Stations” for the homeless but they were similar to WWII delousing centres, and the treatment received there was guaranteed to drive one out again.

· Ten bob = ten shillings 10/- in old money.