Now tell the troubles of the poor child For it is time To tell the struggles and the hard life Of one without Of one so young Now tell the cold and hungry morning In which to wait A mother crying at the table Empty and bare And her heart breaks Tell the troubles of the poor child The joys of life are not to know Saplings starved of sun and water Cannot thrive Cannot grow Now tell these troubles from the mountains To the sea And let them ring in every kind soul With еars to hear And eyes to see Tеll the troubles of the poor child For their voices are too small Let them drink a cup of comfort And let them sing Among us all