I throw on my usual toggery and step out the door
Oh the things I see from immoderate early youth
Venturing into the ponderous environment;wealthy and poor
The parable of a man everyone looks as a hero without proof
Oh the pity in the street persisting In the country side
The country side, the fowling country, no provision for me
The world suffering in affliction no use or way to glide
All those lives a had saved aforesaid
All the effort for someone to be tucked In a warm bed
