Oh weary is the way and sad is the journey
As I go to see the dream trodden underfoot
All my heart and all my loving was for child
Now my heart, my loving is no longer wanted.

I think still the children cry and hunger
I think still the needs of the poor are there
I think still we should be feeding, nursing
Dear Eglantyne – we must save all the children.

Surely when we have so much and happy children,
We need to throw salt to blind the Devil and
Ensure that our luck will not run out and help
The hapless children who die in such misery.

Sorrow and sadness is their lot so often and
It behoves us to do them the service in our power
So that things will change, conditions will better
And the hardened hearts of men will soften.

Take the swords and make them into ploughshares
Add to the veneer of civilisation and never ever
Strip humanity from our hearts and minds so that
Cruelty, sadism, torture can be called the norm.

Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn
Who sadly die as children knowing no good things
Let us all resolve this frightfulness has to go
And let children trail their clouds of glory.