A stolen morsel more precious than gold,
A stolen shirt to keep out the cold,
There is no price to hunger,
There is no price to shelter,

A home we have not to call our own,
A field never possessed for a seed sown,

Only a meager dough to knit the body and soul,
A little fill to get along a day whole;
Keeping the head, feeding the heart,
Is all we have to make a wholesome...