So, slowly riding down the lane
We ne’er could call our own again,
Poor mother wept in silent woe,
But thought it best for us to go.
So, next you’ll see the orphan pair
In the midst of city’s stifled air;
No fields, no lanes, no trees to climb,
A-wondering how we’d kill the time.
What earthly goods we’d gladly give,
To get back home again to live!