One little pauper boy, poor sad little lad.
Body so painfully thin, ragged and cold.
Body is twisted with a foot that is lame.
A sad little face both drawn and so old.

You have known but poverty and hunger
Starting from before you were even born.
The darkness comes and you have no one.
You sleep but  lightly,  awaiting  the morn.

The sun finally comes up, all ruby and gold.
You can bathe your body in it's warm light.
But you are still so hungry, weary and cold,
So you lay there, with eyes closed up tight.

Then as you slip out of your frail little self.
It is no problem, easy since you are so thin.
You can't start to explain  the music you hear.
  Is coming from outside or somewhere within.

Your  tiny  soul floats up on the lovely notes.
Drifts through  the clouds to heaven  above.
Feeling  yourself  enfolded in an Angels' wings.
Called by  name from God's throne of love.