I’m just someone to pity, Lord
A poor, one-talent soul;
My fears and doubts took hold of me,
And so I dug a hole.
The talent that you gave to me,
I hid beneath the earth;
You know I’ve not what others have,
I’ve not but dirt and dirth.
Those with more should bear the load,
And put their gifts to work!
But me – a poor, one-talent soul?
I’ve every cause to shirk!
My little matters little Lord,
There’s not much I can do;
I think I’ll sit and rest my bones,
I’ve dug my hole – I’m through!
What’s that? You say I’m wicked, Lord?
A slothful servant, too?
You’re taking what I have away?
Now what am I to do?