Knowing neither high nor base,
Spurning pomp and pride of place,
One of brood?
Howe’er ’tis,
Baby, shun no Duty’s call,
Fear thy God, love peoples all,
Then whatever shall befall,
Thine is bliss!
Lovely child,
Knowing neither high nor base,
Spurning pomp and pride of place,
One of brood?
Howe’er ’tis,
Baby, shun no Duty’s call,
Fear thy God, love peoples all,
Then whatever shall befall,
Thine is bliss!
Lovely child,