The poem reads like a nursery rhyme, with its short lines, quick rhymes and simple names. Five girls are listed, each tagged with a single word: Hilda is "blue," Betty is "two," Jenny is "red," Clare is "dead," and Joan is "three." The tags seem almost random, as if the rhyme matters more than the meaning. Then the last line breaks the game: "but who is free?"
That question changes how we read everything before it. The catchy rhythm starts to feel uneasy, especially when "dead" turns up in the same casual tone as a colour or a number. Judging by the title and that final line, the speaker seems to be asking whether any of these people, or any of us, are truly free. Colours, numbers and even death can work like labels that fix a person in place.
The mood is playful on the surface and unsettling underneath. The speaker doesn't answer the question, and the poem's neat, childlike sound leaves it hanging in the air.