Barn

Not sure what I wanted to achieve with this one. Playing with rhymes.

The mothers don't care
When working the rows
To bring children there
It slows down their hoes.

They birth them like cows
Bear them out, no strain
A pack of wild sows
They're not worth their grain.

The master don't care
We're working that row
Our babies left there
It's us they don't know

They treat us like cows
They beat us, no strain
Then house us like sows
And feed us a grain.