“I’ve had five babies but the Welfare took them all away from me.”
A weary desolation clouds the voice of your unbidden guest.
This easy lay, this slut and petty thief, this poor pathetic creature
Is a mother too and grieves her loss as any normal mother would.
She’s in the depths right now. No job, no money, claims nowhere to go,
And though aquaintanceship is slight, she’s turned up at your door.
Housekeeping for a widower nearby, her service far exceeded duty’s call.
The farm boy jumped in for his share and both were soon sent on their way.
But she hasn’t told you that nor that the police force know her well.
She’s roamed for years with shearing gangs and gained a reputation.
There was a husband. Two defactos followed. Nothing ever lasted.
Available in minutes, she’d be crying rape when everything turned sour.
Be warned! You’ve made a big mistake not turning her away at once.
Though she’s in need and you, kind soul, are sympathic, she will play on that
And soon, without a by-your-leave, she’ll act as though your house is hers.
Your phone will serve to ‘pay that bastard’ back and you’ll be implicated.
She hasn’t told you that a couple closer had her first and blessed her going.
She came to you in clothes she’d foisted from their wardrobe, never asking,
And left all her possessions there to have you think her destitute.
She uses people and, for her, concealment and lies are both endemic.
You cannot help her! No-one can and those who try are always hurt.
She’ll grab all that you offer, without gratitude, and think you fool.
Her parents live up north somewhere. Take my advice. ‘Lend’ her the fare
And cut your losses. This is not your problem. Drop it onto someone else.