In the corner of a room Clustered only with a rusty stove And an old bed, A tattered book he read to his sister Trying to put her to bed. The day had been long He had to cook with Baba And clean and dust, The woman of the house Had lads she could trust At night Baba watched over the neighborhood And him, over their humble abode For his earnest parents This was his gentle ode Finally came home Mommy Who was playing nanny To another little angel Whose parents took turns too Earning their hefty packages