Proudly the traders stood, as the ship came to port,
T’was in Bristol, not so long ago whence they came,
Each full of self importance, watching their black
gold thrust from the very bowels of a boat to hell.
They stood in chains, naked, on show, picked over.
Each body demonstrated to the purchasers their
potency as bulls and cows, muscles for work and
the children stood between, dazed and drowned
in the tears of their mothers who stared at those
with money in their pockets and dogged drudgery
in their minds, mindful that some would bear the
brunt of their brutal beatings, rape and by-blows.
Sleeping in fits and with stripe plastered backs
they sought such seeds of courage to continue
and we, who subjugated friends, should hang
our heads in stead. We are the shamed. We did
not ask. We did not look and we do not today.
The slaves are everywhere still ,and we block
out their suffering and voices crying while they
die to our fever for fashion, fast food, fuelling
a trade at the cost of children’s lives and creating
a customer that perpetuates slavery for personal
gain, is blind to the beatings and a benighted
people improperly punished into paving the way
to destroy a child’s future, they assault them, they
It its time to be shocked, to be counted and stand up
to the bullies,
time to brave the bludgeoning staffs of
and time to pay the
of those things we want ourselves,