(Harmonica intro: first four lines)
CI pity the poor Fimmigrant
Who Gwishes he would've stayed Chome,
Who uses Call his power to do Fevil
But in the Gend is always left so aClone.
That Amman whom with his Emfingers cheats
And who Flies with ev'ry Cbreath,
Who Cpassionately Fhates his life
And Glikewise, fears his Cdeath.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like Ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.