bread—
O Lord, I could bear it well enough, if it only fell on my head!
But the child so weak and sickly, and me but an old man now,
Asking no better, though, Lord knows, than to work in the sweat of my brow.
But work is not to be had, though I seek it from morning till night:
Not to be had by me; there are men who are younger, a sight;
Younger and stronger, too, who take what is to he had;
And bread has gone up and cold is sharp, and times is very bad.
* * * * *