A little small house,
              I see,
        was destroyed.
And in this little house
              men sang songs of joy.
In this little house
              a mother gave birth.
In this little house
              guests were welcomed with mirth.
In this little house,
              in this house, I say,
Summer and winter
              were cosy and gay.
I grieve till I ache,
              I grieve till tears flow
For this little house
              that has been levelled low.
A thing is not better
              because it is newer,
A thing is the better
              if nearer and truer.
A thing is not better
              because it stands taller,
A thing is the better
              If closer though smaller.
A thing is not better
              because it is fairer,
A thing is the better
              if dearer and rarer.
And this little house
              to someone was close
This little low house
              some man loved the most,
With this little house
              was someone's fate bound.
And this house today
              was razed to the ground.