Roots

If there was a lamb, fallen to my foot,

If there was an abandoned I could loot,

I must not forget my roots

Even if my hands are covered in soot.

If I found myself lost,

In the lies and liquors served by the host,

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And together they raise their glasses for a toast,

Still I mustn’t forget my roots,

Even if my hands are covered in soot.

In the fights and war, if I was caught,

And the blood that was shed without any thought,

At that time, I must remember what I was taught,

That I mustn’t forget my roots,

Even if my hands are covered in soot.