A SIGH OF AN ORPHAN
Of eight a boy was thrown in poverty
In tears was torn and worn in mystery
Remembering always par'dise of the lost
In parents' love and parents' custody
Buried dreams in grave which were instant
A traffic accident of the tragedy
On graves of theirs weeps, he used to stand
A little, he sleeps in some part of the night
And be awake in all its major part
Oh, hard luck, dear mother and dear dad
Alas! how exhausted I'm, and how I'm sad!
A man and a woman came where was the sight
A lightening candle holding each in the hand
Almost his grievous cry, they called back
Oh dear son! we're coming "do not be sad"