Oliver, a Boy Part 2

Welcome back my weary friends I promise you this story ends But not before your time flies through A tale with a horse or two... On streets of cobblestone and gray Where beggars sleep and orphans play The aged, sick and nearly dead Are buried with the underfed The costermongers ply their ware To passersby who linger there While orphan children learn to pick A pocket with a silly trick Aristocrats in tops and tails Avoid the class that tips in jails But painted ladies know the horse That pulls the Master from the course Though Seraphine had made her start By thinking quick and acting smart She should have known that few survive Or live to leave when they arrive The parlor maids knew she was right But Master Bean begrudged her flight And sent the bobbies on a chase To rescue him from his disgrace They found her dripping in the rain And bound her ankles with a chain To bring her back to Master Bean And punishment by Mr. Green When Seraphine was black and blue And seething from a whack or two They locked her door and walked away And blocked her more to make her pay The vengeful Bean could only see Potential loss of property And so he laid a nasty plan To profit by the maid who ran . . . On Sunday Seraphine was freed To join the fun that servants need For English tea and idle talk For Battledore and Shuttlecock As Seraphine began to play Somebody smacked the bird away Before the face of Master Bean To settle on the head of Green She turned as if to run away But something bigger blocked the way That made her faint and hit the ground Before an object large and round A gentle breeze came blowing by To brush her face and sing the sky A misty blush of twilight rose In melody of sweet repose The rounder man who bent and smiled Was recognized as Mr. Wilde Who raised the maiden vertically And spoke apologetically He howled a curse at Master Bean While growling worse at Mr. Green Which thus amused the servant staff Who much abused were prone to laugh To Seraphine, the maiden sweet He taught the joy of happy feet To make her glad and help her see A better life was meant to be She knew that he behaved that way To fluff her bed with tender hay But she would not be stalked by Bean Nor let herself be frocked by Green Although in fact she had no choice She did not run or raise her voice Because she knew that no one sane Could stay with Bean and not complain She walked a course through every room Which otherwise would be her doom But now she didn't seem to care About a shriek or angry glare She packed a set of duffel bags With uniforms like cleaning rags Because she couldn't pay the price To buy some clothing warm and nice She packed a jar of jam she made With cuts of ham and marmalade To make the manor master mad In spite of all the food he had A carriage proposal made Seraphine wary To have and to hold on the way to get merry When Wilde requested her hand in his carriage She didn't foresee it would lead to her baggage In time when the carriage was ready and full And stocky white horses were ready to pull The staff were assembled to wish her goodbye They blew her a kiss and she started to cry . . . To be continued in "Oliver, A Boy Part 3"