Widowed
A bundle of fire wood
At the market place, she sold
Her baby son, would be fed
Educated and sheltered.
Margerittea, now old,
Her baby son, grown, he had,
Her security, she had hoped
Lo! He, now man, a drunkard
Margerittea, still a bundle of firewood
She sold
This man! She fed
A night there was no food
The man, always a drunkard
Margerittea, he butchered
Margarittea, he cried
Searching for food
Margerittea, we wailed
A life without reward.

Charles Jagongo Ogola

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/margerittea-he-butchered-her/