She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain,
While the hot tears were blinding in her brain.
The two passed on, the withered woman rose,
For many minutes she could only shake,
Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,'
The noise a very frightened child might make.
'O God, dear God, don't let the woman take
My little son, God, not my little Jim.
O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.'
So back she trembled, nodding with her head,