The Match Girl

The little match girl her homes cold and bleak

It ́s almost as cold as on the street

But if she returns to her home so cold

Her father will beat her no matches she ́s sold

The little match girl her homes cold and bare

No toys and no fire she will find there

Her mother for her doesn ́t much care

And her father will beat her if she goes there

The match girl ́s roof the wind whistles through

With nothing to eat and nothing to do

But if she returns to her home so cold

Her father will beat her no matches she ́s sold