We travled here when I was five.
Now I am ait, or so mum tells me.
I never thught this woud be a problem,
But mum tells me she doesnt know
How long the mouneys gonna last;
Never thought a paper dyed green woud hurt
Like an gang in the night:
It only helps if there on your side.
So they send me to the faktory from
Ait till ait, every day. There are
Other boys who wurk their too, but
I never get to talk cause the suit man,
He'll wip us good; but were all chaps
Cause we stick togethor behind their backs.
At night mum cries a lot, and my sis, she
Climbs into my bed, she's so scared. I wake up
Screaming-I had a dream the suit man
Was chasin me-mum sings me to sleep.
I wish papa were hear. Mum says
If we don't get more mouney, sis might start work too.
Tooday at the faktory I forgot to watch my hands,
The mashine came down; mum says the doc
Won't be too much, but it's hard wurking without
Two fingers now. We ate tooday, that was good.
Sis joined me at the faktory, mum says she has to.
Walkin to work, we saw a poster naled to a door:
'Oh America, America, so fine and fair your lands! '
Sis looks me in the eye and says,
'Maibee papa brought us to the wrong America.'
I nod my head.
Jonzo Bandwagoner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-journal-of-a-polish-immigrant-1901/
