Nothing On The Grey Roof, Nothing On The Brown, Only A Little Greening Where The Rain Drips Down; Nobody At The Window, Nobody At The Door, Only A Little Hollow Which A Foot Once Wore; But Still I Tread On Tiptoe, Still Tiptoe On I Go, Past Nettles, Porch, And Weedy Well, For Oh, I Know A Friendless Face Is Peering, And A Still Clear Eye Peeps Closely Through The Casement As My Step Goes By.