The sorrows of a child in childhood now,
To be wanting but too polite to ask,
Who cares about the poor boy anyhow,
Did he not just neglect his solemn task?
And will he not repent if in the same
Moment of truth he mumbles all too loud
About the need to find someone to blame
About the fear that threatens in a crowd?
So questions are not asked but merely known
As if by lost design or given fault
If only in the stars it could be shown
Why he had locked himself inside the vault.
But let the boy not hang because of fear
But rather hang him since he shed no tear.
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