Down the dirty street,
Nothing to drink or eat,
No shoe upon my feet,
And my stomach's hunger I meet.

Passes a sweet girl by,
Beautiful to my eye,
Her skirt upon her thigh,
And her top, stomach high.

How I wish she saw this poor heart,
Hidden beneath this torn shirt's part,
Longing to find love that won't depart,
And love that won't tear it apart.

But she passes me by,
Because she had nothing to spy,
For I only had a coin tin upon my knee,
And in a state, a beggar should be.