We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
Of course we had it tough. We had to get up at 4 in the morning 2h before we went to bed and lick road clean wit tongue, work for the mill owner 19h a day, week in week out and pay the mill owner 2p a day for provision to work and when we got home are dad would slice us in two wit bread knife and our parents would dance on our graves singing hellelujah.
And you tell that to kids of today and they won't believe you!
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I don't think mornings should exsist!
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And you tell that to kids of today and they won't believe you!
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