The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark
Eating bread from a newspaper
Drinking water from the chained cup
That the children filled with gravel
In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship
The hunchback has the bare minimum to stay alive; bread, the cheapest staple food, and not even a plate. Newspapers are thrown away, unwanted after a day, then taken by homeless people for warmth and, in this case, to eat from. The hunchback’s diet, bread and water, is no different from that given to Victorian prisoners. The image of imprisonment and chains continues throughout the poem; this is the totality of the hunchback’s life.
The Hunchback in the Park