A man amidst thieves,
Lay lame and sickly,
As the passersby see

But all just keep moving

There priestly and pious,

Pass on the wayside.
Heedless and high
As all just keep moving


None wash them with wine,
Or dress their afflictions

There's no more oil to soothe,
Or give sweet benediction.


All hasten their feet
And quicken their breathing
There' re no more alms to catch up

With the pace they are keeping

We all walk like levities

And pass alongside of the fray
No more Samaritans
Ever'd be stopped on the way


No more inns for exposure
Or men with the means to defray

No more Samaritans
Ever'd be stopped on the way