If there's no oil for lamplight
when clouds obscure the moon
and violins have lost their strings
to play a dulcet tune,

If skies withhold their raindrops
that feed the thirsting streams
and lullabies can't find a voice
to soothe our troubled dreams,

Still somewhere there's one moonbeam,
one bright melodic song,
one drop of rain to slake our thirst
to carry us along.

Hold on for one day longer
till hints of hope appear,
for life's renewal in small buds
keeps drawing ever near.