by Norbert Hirschhorn
work the streets of Leicester Square. One
peddles ribbons for
your sweetie’s hair, the next
hawks roses filched
from front gardens, while
the eldest sells something too
cheap, too dear. The younger ones don’t
hate this sister — Brecht said, First feed the face. Then
talk right and wrong — Back
at the bedsit they wet their merchandise with tears.
Based on the Yiddish folksong by Morris Winchevsky (1856 –1932).