Timothy, Timothy, lonely Tim,
searching, searching, playing with Jim.
Wondering, wondering where you are
with uncles and aunts and no Mamma.

Family, family, you have none
- none you can call a personal one;
whom do you love and who loves you?
Is it Charlie or Jim, or Lucy or Sue?

Older and older you learn to cry
quietly, quietly tears that dry.
Puzzling, puzzling soon you find
that having no parents is not very kind.