The Inner Music Of A Dumb Orphan Virgin
The rich stars begin to scatter in the twilight sky
And the haughty Moon peeps like a new silver coin.
I hear the melody; the rattle of her rusty till
And she begs on the muddy road with her usual grimace.
I want to call her my dear sister,
It's getting dark and the time has come to go back home.
She doesn't know how to express
That she is homeless it seems.
I saw a tear dropp falling from her eye into the till
And I am scared that would have melt coins.
I am very sorry my sibling
And please do not think I am stingy but penniless.