Sweet Charity

In tatter'd weed from town to town,

Is hapless primrose doom'd to stray,

Compell'd, a wretched wanderer known

To seek a home from day-to-day.

Barefoot as she strolls forlorn,

O'er the flint, or pointed thorn;

Silent must her sorrow be,

Her Madrigal — Sweet Charity!

At evening will the village hind,

In rapture listen to her song

And buy her toys in hope to find

What future joys to him belong.

Barefoot as she strolls forlorn

etc.