we don't need those troubles again
oh mizerly the people walked
hanging shelters cross
and doubtful was the opinion of the times
the newsies had left
nothing to rent from them
the three blind mice learned how?

and before the war won
the democracy was disappointment
hanging dreary saddness next to all
all those starving sacred's covered in lumber

hailing the work, hateful of corners
oh my the people and the poetries
never growing enough
umpteenth time denied alms
and poor was the way back to harlem