Both sides of the paper

Why are you here?

They'll eat you out of house and home,
They'll even eat your goat,
For months their hair hasn't seen a comb,
Cos it wouldn't fit in the boat.

They wear leather and look flash,
Yet they are poor they claim,
They're entitled to our cash,
With citizenship their aim.

The poor old tramp with no house,
Used to own a shop,
Cos from the boat emmerged a mouse,
So trading had to stop.

He now eats from a bin,
Filled with contempt and rage,
He pickles his liver with paint ginn,
Society turns the page.

Why I came

I was but eight when I saw my first fired bullet,
It entered through my window pane,
Through my sisters gullet,
Cowering with tears and I had to refrain.

I did not feel safe any more,
I felt the need to leave,
I did not understand the war,
Nor why I could not grieve.

I took the little that I had,
Some sandles and a showel,
Stuff left by my mum and dad,
Who the rebels 'had' to disembowl.

I wasn't ready for the next stage,
But knew I had to try,
Even at that young age,
I wasn't afraid to die.

A news team found me by the road,
And nursed me so I was well
Their Enqlish was like a code,
I picked it up quick so I could tell.

They took me to a charity tent,
That gave me food and water,
England was where I wanted to be sent,
To a family who had lost their daughter.

I live in England now,
I'm thankful for my home,
When I smile I raise my brow,
And add it to my tome.