Child, is thy father dead? Father is gone!Why did they tax his bread? God's will be done!Mother has sold her bed;Better to die than wed!Where shall she lay her head? Home we have none!
Father clamm'd thrice a week -- God's will be done!Long for work did he seek, Work he found none.Tears on his hollow cheekTold what no tongue could speak:Why did his master break? God's will be done!
Doctor said air was best -- Food had we none;Father, with panting breast, Groan'd to be gone:Now he is with the blest --Mother says death is best!We have no place of rest -- Yes, ye have one!
