And their clothes are tattered and thin.
And tell them this is their home, mamma,
Oh, tell them this is their home;
And give them something to eat that’s nice,
Of bread and butter a good large slice,
And bid them no more to roam.
For isn’t it all too bad, mamma,
Oh, isn’t it all too bad,
That they must starve, or beg in the street,
No cloak to their backs, or shoes to their feet,