• rsnrcs 9w

    C H I L D 2

    They say upon his birthday eve ,
    She'd rock him to his rest .
    As if she could not have him leave ,
    The shelter of her breast .

    The poor must go in bitter thrift ,
    The poor must give in pain .
    But ever did she get a gift ,
    To greet his day again .

    They say she'd kiss the boy awake ,
    And hail him gay and clear .
    But oh her heart was like to break ,
    To count another year .