At the Age of Fourteen
By Lydia Coyne, 2nd year.
I am the woman of the house,
Here at the age of fourteen.
I mind my six brothers and my ‘aul lad’
All I do is cook, wash and clean.
My mother has disappeared,
I have no notion where.
The thing I find strange is
My family don’t seem to care.
I feed seven hungry men,
At least three times a day.
I can’t complain cause “that’s my job”
Well so the men say.
Our house is the only house for miles,
Which has a washing machine.
My Dad won it in the town raffle.
A pink ticket numbers thirteen.
I wash eight sets of clothes each week
All filthy and scattered with stains.
At least I have this dream machine,
Without it, washing would be a pain.
The times they are a-changing
But for now this is my life.
I’ll live this way for a few more years
Until I walk down the aisle and become a wife…