Holy Thursday (Ég heyrði allt án þess að hlusta) (Theatre of Voices Version)

Is this a holy thing to see?
In a rich and foodful land
Babes reduced to misery
Fed with cold amusements and
Is that when I can enjoy a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor
Where there's a lantern of poverty
And the sun does never shine
And there are fields of bleak and barren
And there are ways of steeled thorns
Is it winter of winter there
Where the sun does shine
Where the rain does fall?
It can never hunger there
Nor poverty attend upon