Pity for the Old Lady
Psych_Neth
On a dusty Sunday morning
When I’m kneeling and praying
Before the altar and the church
There she was, waiting in her cart
So strange the old lady was
When I saw her after mass
Her eyes were so mysterious
It makes me more anxious
Her eyes were vague as morning dew
I saw it from my heart for I knew
The face of cruelty and pain,
Wealth, nothing she gain
Pity for the old lady
For she gain nothing in a day
Give her money, give her wealth
For she was old, and in bad health
Many just passed the lady
And no one gives her penny
She’s so hungry, so thirsty
But no one besides her stay
Give her bread and water, I cried
For the old lady was on my side
But ears of theirs weren’t there
Only I heard laughter everywhere
Oh please…. please…. have pity!
Pity for the old lady
It’s not her fault, not her sin
To be a society’s burden
But no one hears, no one listens
No one speaks and no one sees
For they are deaf, they are blind
Only power and wealth was on their mind
Pity for the old lady, I lamented!
For she’s so cold, cold as dead
She’s so hungry, so thirsty
But no one gives her penny
God said: “Give water to thirsty,
Bread for those who are hungry.”
Yet, no one sees, no one hears
On the old lady’s cry and tears.
Pity for the old lady
For she earns nothing in a day
But not her fault, not her sin
To be a society’s burden
“Pity for the old lady!” thrice I cried.
But now, it’s useless, for she died on my side.
I cried, trembled, kneel, pray, and suppose to say goodbye,
When alas! I woke up with tears in my eye!
