You sullen pig of a man 
you force me into the mud 
with your stinking ash-cart!

Brother! 
--if we were rich 
we'd stick our chests out 
and hold our heads high!

It is dreams that have destroyed us.

There is no more pride 
in horses or in rein holding. 
We sit hunched together brooding 
our fate.

Well-- 
all things turn bitter in the end 
whether you choose the right or 
the left way 
and-- 
dreams are not a bad thing.