by W. McM. Cunningham
Jubilee Year nineteen thirty-five
a king-emperor and consort
to progress through our community.
Drawn in a gilded coach
streets lined with stunted,
underweight children.
No palace dwellers they;
unsanitary, ill-lit, vermin-ridden
hovels their dwelling,
royal cattle and horses fare better.
Waving flags on cue
we are rewarded
with toffees in a souvenir box.
Jobless fathers who fought
for king and country
are rewarded with dole queues.
With adulthood comes knowledge,
fitness graded on
lack of childhood protein.
Chains are thrown off.
Bitterness; anger remain.