Nothing but lamps the whole town through,
And never a child awake but you.
Child.Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,
Some of the things are so great and near,
Some are so small and far away,
I have a fear that I cannot say.
What have I done, and what do I fear,
And why are you crying, mother dear?
Mother.Out in the city, sounds begin.
Thank the kind God, the carts come in!