Oliver, a Boy

My mother's name was Seraphine A sadder child was never seen Her duty was to serve the table Of newly widowed Mrs. Grable Her husband Mr. Grable died To keep the British gratified For which the lady, born and bred Was brought to stay with Master Ted Their lineage was the House of Bean A family favored by the Queen When epic wars left many dead The House of Bean was spared instead For serving well Her Majesty The Beans were blessed with property And one small subject, good and clean The lowly servant, Seraphine When Seraphine was just a child Her Master Ted met Mr. Wilde A gentleman from Derbyshire In need of servant class for hire In Derbyshire he kept a farm A new estate with country charm That came with dairy cows and sheep And one large lake two fathoms deep He lived in lonely solitude Without a wife to share his food The class that served so faithfully Was not a fitting company When Seraphine was strong and able She dug the grave of Mrs. Grable And thought about a different house To serve within a different blouse For Seraphine had seen the day When Master Bean refused to pay The twenty pounds he paid before Although she labored even more She knew the way to break his sway Was leave his house without delay In search of better work and food And just a bit of gratitude But Bean would always tell her no Because he feared that she would go And tell the queen most truthfully About the time she worked for free She thought about a running mate Another maid to share her fate But all the other maids were proud To be among the servant crowd . . . When all their work was duly done And shadowlands replaced the sun The manor maids were then excused To crawl in beds where they recused Though waifish girls of every type Were thus inclined to sit and gripe They quickly found that like before The cheeky ones were shown the door Now Seraphine, just might have stayed But all the rest were duly paid Who thus, redeemed, and paid at last Did not object to be outclassed For manor work was hard to find And prostitution was the grind That left you sick and often dead But rarely meant you got ahead The girls shared a laugh or two As servant maids are prone to do But sheer exhaustion proved to be The ending to their revelry Though Seraphine could join the crew Who went to bed and promptly too She quietly topped off her sack Without a thought of coming back A dreamer on the kitchen crew Was dreaming with a window view When suddenly the breaking dawn Betrayed the maiden on the lawn The kitchen boy released a shout That startled everyone about And made the Manor Lady scream And wake the Master from his dream A bobby who was passing by Was startled by their anguished cry And hurried with a worried frown To find the Master in his gown The Master told a mournful story That even sold the Morning Glory And made the bobby blow his whistle Enough to kill a bed of thistle A 'Peeler' by the name of Cook Approached his calling by the book And made a vow to Master Bean To capture cunning Seraphine... *** This intermission that we take Is meant to help you stay awake Through what I say and for the sake Of everyone who needs a break... Continued in part 2 . . .