The yoke of pride, so many times Has fallen on the best of us The yoke of pride, so many times Has burdened us who dwell in charity Why, you ask, not break the chains? T'is hard enough contending with The downward eyes of passer-bys No hearth, no home, no love, no dignity Lo, yet one more decry From an infamous throne such as mine Vile and stable In a wondrous and slow decline The rain still must fall On a wanderer of such likeness. Fortune is a beggars bane Yet the stain blights us all More so who thus deny it. Fortune is a beggars bane Now I'm a rogue in your eyes But I once was a yeoman who shined With a place at the table With laymen and lords alike Now I find myself in the mire Of a world still unfolding itself Vile and stable In a wondrous and slow decline