Times Like These (Baby Peter)

19 May

He was just a baby boy with blue eyes and blonde hair,

If ever there was proof this life is just not fair:

His was so unhappy and his death so meaningless,

His arms reached out for comfort from a picture in the press.


All over this country: in pubs, kitchens and classrooms,

An angry British public asked angry British questions,

Of social workers, teachers, doctors and MP’s;

How could this have happened? How in times like these?


When i heard the news that night i cried myself to sleep,

Never knew such precious human life could be so cheap.

No God i know could let a baby live and die like that,

No comfort in this cold cruel world,

No way of going back.


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