The many photographs of Alfred Austin

Were taken in deprived areas

It was said that they were full of music

And that the harsh beauty

Was the equivalent of fragrant roses

Deep within a gentle summer



Your thoughts Joe

There is no beauty in poverty

There is no beauty in the chaos

Of their bleak and sordid lives

If they were given all the riches of the world

These creatures would soon corrupt their advantages

One has only to look worldwide to see this happening



Josie

I agree with my brother

Although I would add

That Alfred Austin was a fraud

Who pretended to be a socialist

Whilst exploiting those in his work

He was a typical socialist

Who recorded these creatures

In their awful zoos and asked

For our sympathy and concern

Whist living in considerable comfort

Around the city parks

Towards the end of his wretched life

He lived in Hampstead

With his equally wretched friends

They are all dead and mostly forgotten

History will soon forget that they ever existed

Austin’s photographs are still hung

By those who pretend to care

But are as worthless

As the cats and dogs

On unloved biscuit tins