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Rh The widow and the orphan

That pray for ten per cent.,

They clapped their trailers on us

To spy the road we went.

They watched the foreign sailings

(They scan the shipping still),

And that's your Christian people

Returning good for ill!

God bless the thoughful islands

Where never warrants come!

God bless the just Republics

That give a man a home,

That ask no foolish questions,

But set him on his feet;

And save his wife and daughters

From the workhouse and the street!

On church and square and market

The noonday silence falls;

You'll hear the drowsy mutter

Of the fountain in our halls.