Unto the Person kind there came
A young girl bearing her fruit of shame:
She fell and it had to pay the price
Innocent Lamb of Sacrifice!
Lovingly then the Person smiled,
Gazing upon the face of the child;
Smiled like an ogress - 'Don't despond!
I am of children all too fond.'
Then said the mother, speaking low,
Kissing the babe she had born in woe:
'Treat him tenderly-nurse him well.'
Hotly the tears on the baby fell.
Taking the mother's coin with a leer
Ogress remarked: 'Don't cry, my dear,
Motherly persons to me are known,
One is named Wood and another Stone.
'Either of them will your baby keep
Hushing him into a soft, long sleep,
Crooning a lonesome lullaby song;
They have been used to children long.'
Cold and yet kind was the nurse's breast;
Cold fell the rain on the babe at rest;
Pale was his face as an immortelle,
Old Mother Doorstep had nursed him well.