What do you want?
Don't take our bread
For, it's all we have
Before our bed
Our house is made
In the many slums
Where no one smiles
And no one hums
We're tired, hungry,
And plain poor souls
But, we ask not for pity
Nor food from your bowls
We'll live this way
Forever more
Until Death comes for us
Our frames to bore
And bear us he will
'Til the very last
In Death, we'll sleep
And forgive the past