No privacy, no silence, it appalls

The poor can’t take this lockdown for too long.
They have no back gardens, no birdsong
Their bed rooms shared, or they have none at all
No privacy, no silence, it appalls
I hear them talked about in cruel ways
“They go into McDonalds every day”
Would you cook your meals in red wine bathed
If you had only got a microwave?
They can’t keep warm in winter in their homes
McDonald’s is a luxury they earn
Clean and neat with heating and hot drinks
They sit and look at me , like I’m the Sphinx
The average reading age in Britain’s nine
They can’t read Boris’ letter, that’s malign