Who will take up my arm at night

And gallantly walk me under moonlight

The gentry are out in the taverns with whores

The miners are counting their pennies indoors

Who will escort me through bishops and queens

On vulnerable pavements of pockets and fiends

Is anyone offering a pen or a pound

A paper to pawn or a church bell to sound

Who will cross me the tracks heading West

And keep out an eye as I take up my rest

And tell all the beggars I’ve nothing to spare

‘Cept the sand in my shoes and a strand of my hair

Who will provide me a penumbra of hope

From life in the lens of a kaleidoscope

That would offer me tea and fresh scones where I sat

An unknown impostor with a second-hand hat.

Who will divert me from danger and sin

From alleys where nobody knows that I’ve been

A damsel in shadows, pistachio-eyed

On corners where souls metaphorically died

Who will define me misfortune and woe

And assume that I did not already know

For a misguided judgement is peril at best

So I conceal the truths buried deep in my breast.

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