There sits a guest in the room,
He tells a tale of woe,
And the host, with a heavy heart,
Listens and sighs, "Alas, so low!"
He tells a tale of woe,
And the host, with a heavy heart,
Listens and sighs, "Alas, so low!"
But the host has a song in his soul,
A song of purest gleam,
That he sings to himself, and makes him whole,
A never-ending dream.
A song of purest gleam,
That he sings to himself, and makes him whole,
A never-ending dream.