Victorian London
Has always appealed to me
In particular, life below stairs
Not the height of the rich and famous
But where scullery maids lived and shared
A tiny room, they slept
In bony hard beds
High up in the attic space
Far away from life's luxuries
Where class mattered rather than face
Hooped petticoats
And lavish finery for the ladies
Satins and bodices pulled tight
Rouge for a touch of colour
To stain a complexion of stark white
Below stairs
Was the butlers abode
In charge of an army of staff
Where they would get into trouble
If they spoke out or gave in to laugh
Strictness was
The order of the day
As they scrubbed and swept and baked
If their chores weren't finished
Heaven help them for their sake
Up with the lark
And to skivvy hard all day
The affinity I feel
Will never go away