some writings of Pamela Marion Barrington MBE

Where Have All the Children Gone?

‘Where have all the children gone?’ they cried –
Those citizens of fourteenth century Hamelin town,
For the children disappeared without a trace –
Because men were dishonest and denied their word.

Surely we do not want to visit once fair Africa
And cry out ‘where have all the children gone?’
To see no more those laughing, friendly brown faces
Split wide with ear to ear happy grins.

Continue reading “Where Have All the Children Gone?”


The Wearisome Burden

Oh weary is the burden that I carry o’er the fields –
Fields is a useless word for an empty dry desert.
I need fertile places for life and to be a shield
Against the ravages of hunger, starvation and horrid death.

Do you wonder that I look at you with envy and scorn?
You have too much for your needs and those of family –
Into misery, despair, degradation my offspring is born
Because to you I am a ‘no account’ sort of human being.

Continue reading “The Wearisome Burden”

What David Alexander Might have said

(he might even endorse it)

I have seen the silos at Stockinbingal –
A name to remember in my dreaming.
Out on the western plains far from the city,
I saw the real Australia – I saw Stockinbingal.

They of the S.C.F. took me here and they took me there,
From Sydney’s sprawling west to Kempsey on Macleay,
To Purfleet on the Manning, Gosford by Brisbane Water,
I met a people warm and kind who all cared about children.

Continue reading “What David Alexander Might have said”

Weary Way

Oh weary is the world and weary is the way –
As I tramp over my once rich pastures
I wonder what I have to do to be blessed
With all the riches that go beyond avarice.

My children are born and then they slowly die.
Will no child of mine carry my genes onward
Must everything stop with me because I lack
Even the very means to keep my flesh alive.

Continue reading “Weary Way”

The Unkindest Cut

A Man came out of Nottingham,
Belloc’s sodden and unkind Midlands,
And with healing hands and heart
He cared, along with Luke.

Four hostages to fortune had he,
Inspired by their joy and his loving,
To the sad, the lonely and unfortunate
He dedicated most of his loving care.

Continue reading “The Unkindest Cut”

These are our Children

Oh weary is the way and sad is the journey
As I go to see the dream trodden underfoot
All my heart and all my loving was for child
Now my heart, my loving is no longer wanted.

I think still the children cry and hunger
I think still the needs of the poor are there
I think still we should be feeding, nursing
Dear Eglantyne – we must save all the children. Continue reading “These are our Children”

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