If you should take my child ,give my hands strength to dig his grave ,cover him earth . Lord send a little man , for grass will grow.
If my house should burn down ,so that sting the nostrils ,making the eyes weep, then Lord send a little rain for grass will grow.
But Lord do not send me madness, do not send me moors hard madness to lodge shug in my skull.
I would like you to send me hordes of houses, gallopsing, crushing, but do not break the yalk of the moon on me .