I am no one and never will be anyone, br for I am far too small to claim to be; br not even later. br br Mothers and Fathers, br take pity on me. br br I fear it will not pay to raise me: br I shall fall victim to the mower's scythe. br No one can find me useful now: I am too young, br and tomorrow will be too late. br br I only have one dress, br worn thin and faded, br but it will last an eternity br even before God, perhaps. br br I only have this whispy hair br (that always remained the same) br yet once was someone's dearest love. br br Now he has nothing that he loves.