I've won the race.
Young man, I'm new!
Old Sallow-face
Good luck to you!
I've turned about,
And paid for sin.
And you come out,
As I go in.
Ten years! but mark,
I am free, free!
Ten years of dark
Shall gather me.
My wife long-while
She wept her pain.
She cannot smile;
She weeps again.
My little one
Shall know my call.
Child is there none
For sin grows tall.
Now who are you,
Spar of hell's flood?
And who, and who,
But your own blood?
