Little Beggars, The

Kind lady! as thou hast a heart 
     To bid the poor and wretched live, 
O! from thy plenty, one small part 
     For our sad, starving mother give.

We left her sick, alone and weak, 
     With none to hold her aching head:
Hunger and sickness on her cheek
     Have left their pale hue for the red.

Our father is not what he was
     In joyous days that have gone by.
Lady! if thou would'st know the cause, 
     Ask of yon haughty trader why.

We begged of him to give us bread;
     He gave a cruel curse and blow:
"Off! off! ye beggar brats," he said;
     "Back to your filthy hovel go."

I knew that we were beggar boys, 
     Doomed to a life of want and woe
By the foul poison that destroys
     All peace, but HE hath made us so.

Lady! 'tis hard to beg our bread
     As we do now from door to door, 
But give, and blessings on thy head 
     May Heaven in plenty pour.