She walks on duty, through the night
Of coughing calls and sleepless sighs
And in the dim and pallid light
She stalks the ward with drooping eyes;
Thus patients rest within her sight
Which keeps them safe from their demise

One patient more, one break the less,
As frantic hands prepare the space
Which someone left in such a mess
So now she works at twice the pace
Whilst hiding signs of inner stress
With grimaced smile upon her face

And on that bed, and in the throe,
A deathly pale old patient went;
She held his hand and mopped his brow
His weary angel, heaven sent;
His vital signs began to grow
As she collapsed, her goodness spent.