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19/2/2017 0 Comments

My poem - The Life and Times of Molly Dodd


​The Life and Times of Molly Dodd


Oh, Ma! Don’t leave me at the poorhouse door;
It’s cold. I’m tired and me legs are sore.
I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll not cause you to fret.
Let’s go home right now, and our dinners I’ll get.
Stale bread and warm water like we always do,
And I’ll find a few carrots to make us a stew.

Oh, Misses!  Don’t make me scrub the scullery floor;
Me knees are blue and me hands are raw.
I’ve worked this past month without one day of rest;
If it’s me soul you’re after you’ve had the best.
Me, I seem to get no joy out of life;
Despite me best efforts, it’s all toil and strife.

Oh, Mister! Don’t make me stand at the loom all day.
I work hard for you for so little pay.
The factory air is making me ill, and though
Me back’s breaking I work hard for you still.
There’s trouble brewing. There’s talk of a strike.
If it’s profit you want, you better start treating me right.

Oh, my dear! Don’t pester me to make love to thee;
I want you sure. But we got no money for three.
We said we’d wait for a bairn when we got wed;
In these hard times it’s best to plan ahead.
From hand to mouth we live each day, or else
We pawn and get on tick what we cannot pay.

Oh, daughter! It’s only the poorhouse. Don’t you fear.

It’s best this way. They’ll look after you here.
Your dad had a drink, and he beat me sore.
Out of w
ork for months, and he couldn’t take it no more.
Where he is now? I just don’t know. Don’t fret,
​
I’ll come for you soon, luv. So... in you go.





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    .Author

    I recently completed an academic research project (MPhil) about working-class women’s autobiographies. Now I’m writing my own...

    To cut a long story short:

    My dad and both my grandads were coal miners. I was born in Coalville. I belong on this website. 
    I returned to education as a mature student: got a couple of A-levels, went to university; got a BA, an MA, a PhD, and an MPhil. It was not as easy as that. It was not as quick as that. But I did.
    I have spent most of my adult-life studying something. Generally something to do with English literature: mainly something to do with working-class women. My MA is about Women and God – inspired by and emotively written through my experiences as a pupil at Catholic primary and secondary schools. My PhD and MPhil projects are about working-class women writers – inspired and emotively written through my experiences as a working-class woman in a materialistic and class-ridden society. When I was an undergraduate at university, there wasn’t a module about working-class writing. There just wasn't. I didn’t study any working-class texts. I just didn’t. I once gave a research paper about my PhD (ie: talking about my work) and I remember someone laughingly said, ‘Was there a recession in the 1980s? I must have missed that.’ That just about sums it up.
    I have had no working-class peers. I found them in my reading and writing. In my reading and writing I found myself.

    Welcome to my blog.
    It's basically about me.It’s called ‘My Travel Blog’ (because I’m time travelling through my memories of the past). See what I did there?


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