Her hair hangs down in ragged ringlets,
Her shoulders bowed with care,
She sits in the middle of a busy street,
Selling papers to cars passing there.
It was cool and dark the night I saw her,
But while other peddlers ceased to roam,
She slumped there as the cars screamed by,
And I wondered why she didn’t go home?
But I sped by with all the others,
Resting on a cushy seat,
While the little girl sat with her papers,
that were surely out of date.
And though there are a million like her,
I wondered, what was her name?
Did she have a mother at home,
To kiss away her pain?
I couldn’t get her off my mind,
Where would she go tonight?
I knew she still sat there, in the cold,
Still lived, though out of my sight.
How can I be content to be this thing,
This luxery passing poverty?
How can I go on my way
Forgetting the many in agony?
How can I eat, every day,
More food than I really need,
Sleeping under a feather quilt,
Complaining when things aren’t just my speed?
I would be a fool to think
I can heal all the wounds out there,
But is that an excuse to live
As though I haven’t a care?
I cannot help the million kids,
But if I give to God these hands,
Perhaps If i do what’s before me,
I’ll change the few lives I can.
Her shoulders bowed with care,
She sits in the middle of a busy street,
Selling papers to cars passing there.
It was cool and dark the night I saw her,
But while other peddlers ceased to roam,
She slumped there as the cars screamed by,
And I wondered why she didn’t go home?
But I sped by with all the others,
Resting on a cushy seat,
While the little girl sat with her papers,
that were surely out of date.
And though there are a million like her,
I wondered, what was her name?
Did she have a mother at home,
To kiss away her pain?
I couldn’t get her off my mind,
Where would she go tonight?
I knew she still sat there, in the cold,
Still lived, though out of my sight.
How can I be content to be this thing,
This luxery passing poverty?
How can I go on my way
Forgetting the many in agony?
How can I eat, every day,
More food than I really need,
Sleeping under a feather quilt,
Complaining when things aren’t just my speed?
I would be a fool to think
I can heal all the wounds out there,
But is that an excuse to live
As though I haven’t a care?
I cannot help the million kids,
But if I give to God these hands,
Perhaps If i do what’s before me,
I’ll change the few lives I can.