We are the poor children, come out to see the sights
On this day of all days, on this night of nights;
The stars in merry parties are dancing in the sky,
A fine star, a new star, is shining on high!
We are the poor children, our lips are frosty blue,
We cannot sing our carol as well as rich folk do;
Our bellies are so empty we have no singing voice,
But this night of all nights good children must rejoice.
We do rejoice, we do rejoice, as hard as we can try,
A fine star, a new star is shining in the sky!
And while we sing our carol, we think of the delight
The happy kings and shepherds make in Bethlehem to-night.
Are we naked, mother, and are we starving-poor—
Oh, see what gifts the kings have brought outside the stable door;
Are we cold, mother, the ass will give his hay
To make the manger warm and keep the cruel winds away.
We are the poor children, but not so poor who sing
Our carol with our voiceless hearts to greet the new-born King,
On this night of all nights, when in the frosty sky
A new star, a kind star is shining on high!