1. To you I lament the sweat of an epoch insane,
and orphans clothed in tatters small as gravel,

2. while their mother shrieks begging for dresses,
her coat of mail lost before she could disarm.

3. O Lord, O Lord of him I seek only you,
Brownie, O Lord before the finish line nears,

4. for Brownie in this life hoped for more,
had she but spoken to the monks down in the valleys,

5. they'd have crawled to walk toward her on their knees.