Here they are—see!
Against your knee,
Waiting there to be fed!—
I cannot bear their eyes.
Their soft little kisses burn—
They will cry again
In vain, in vain,
For the food that I cannot earn.
If I could only write
Just a dozen pages or so
Here they are—see!
Against your knee,
Waiting there to be fed!—
I cannot bear their eyes.
Their soft little kisses burn—
They will cry again
In vain, in vain,
For the food that I cannot earn.
If I could only write
Just a dozen pages or so