O say what is that thing called Light
Which I must never enjoy
What are the blessings of the sight
O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you see
You say the sun shines bright
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make
Whenever I sleep or play
And could I ever keep awake
With me 'twere always day

With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss, a loss, a loss
I never can know

Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy
So let me sing
I am a king, a king, a king
Although a poor blind boy

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.