Rent
In Beamish Street, collecting the rent,
Was how my Tuesday mornings were spent.
An arduous task at the best of times.
Nell McFee, hubby in jail for various crimes.
Sobbing to me as she had no rent to pay,
Offering to make it up to me in some other way.
With Billy Jones, I knew I would be in for a fight.
Swore he paid twice last week and taught his dog to bite.
Seventy-eight houses in Beamish Street, every one rented.
I heard every excuse not to pay that had ever been invented.
The Browns, a dear old couple. He was ill, medicine’s dear.
Always on time, they couldn’t pay. She greeted me with a tear.
I have become tough as nails, oblivious to renter’s pleads,
But just this once to be the helping hand someone needs,
I ticked my list ‘Browns FULLY PAID’ and stayed a while.
Shoved my own money in the bag, continued with a smile.
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