You were taken from us when only two,
Leaving four sisters, who without you grew.
Our parents had died, life got tougher,
We found new homes, but you would suffer.

With Sisters of Mercy, at first you were placed,
Behind closed doors, you couldn't be traced.
Your early thoughts, only you can know,
But the seeds of despair were beginning to grow.

The establishment then with a brainwave to shock,
Marched you to a liner waiting at the dock.
There you were sent to a far off land,
With unfriendly creatures and searing sand.

No family, no love, you could only exist,
Your memories, your life, shrouded in mist.
After twenty long years, knowing what you were told,
You decided to stow away in a ship's hold.

You would search for the family that you once had,
And fill in the gaps since you were a lad.
For thirty more years you searched high and low,
But every lead ended in frustration and woe.

Your sisters in turn were searching the land,
For the little brother who once held their hand.
Their memories of you, with your curly blond hair,
In finding you again, nothing could compare.

At last you were traced to your threadbare home,
Arrangements were made, no more would you roam.
You told us of the pain endured through the years,
Before laying you to rest, amid all our tears.

(c) John McKay Withey