She don't understand it—the poor little child—
When I seat her alone she looks strange and wild,
And when I dismiss her she never looks 'round,
But she goes off alone looking down to the ground.
Her mother's afflicted, her home life is bad,
When I see little Becca I always feel sad.
She learns very quickly, she sings like a lark,
But Becca must go, for her skin is so dark.
I am asked to "dismiss her," and "send her away,"
She must not study here and with others play,