"Can't you see that if you were willing and your father would come and offer you to me, I couldn't be touching the soles of your feet, in love--me, whose people brawled over me, cut off me hand, and throwed me away to freeze and to die! Me, who has no name just as much because I've no RIGHT to any, as because I don't know it.

When I was little, I planned to find me father and mother when I grew up.

Now I know me mother deserted me, and me father was maybe a thief and surely a liar.

The pity for me suffering and the watching over me have gone to your head, dear Angel, and it's me must be thinking for you.

If you could be forgetting me lost hand, where I was raised, and that I had no name to give you, and if you would be taking me as I am, some day people such as mine must be, might come upon you.