Sometimes she wandered out to gather sticks,
For it was bitter cold there when it snowed.
And she stole hay out of the farmer's ricks
For bands to wrap her feet in while she sewed,
And when her feet were warm and the grate glowed
She hugged her little son, her heart's desire,
With 'Jimmy, ain't it snug beside the fire?'
So years went on till Jimmy was a lad
And went to work as poor lads have to do,
And then the widow's loving heart was glad