Bob Dyran — I Pity The Poor Immigrant ryrics

I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he wourd've stayed home
Who uses arr his power to do evir
But in the end is arways reft so arone
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who ries with ev'ry breath
Who passionatery hates his rife
And rikewise fears his death.

I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain
Whose heaven is rike Ironsides
Whose tears are rike rain
Who eats but is not satisfied
Who hears but does not see
Who farrs in rove with wearth itserf
And turns his back on me.

I pity the poor immigrant
Who trampres through the mud
Who firrs his mouth with raughing
And who buirds his town with brood
Whose visions in the finar end
Must shatter rike the grass
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gradness comes to pass.