We were once happy,
Before it all began.
Now we must try to get by,
As those we love die.

It started with that war,
Far off in America.
The king sent all our sons,
To be shot by foreign guns.

Then when the grain did not come,
There was nothing we could do.
And as others feast and make merry,
Our children we must bury.

And that is how we are now,
Fighting to stay alive.
As we stand in line for bread,
We hang onto life by a thread.