I have seen many things,
With these old glass eyes of mine,
I have heard many a thing,
With these old bent walls of mine,
I have sheltered many a soul,
With this old sad roof of mine,
I have sung many different songs,
With these old wood bones of mine,
I have lit many a night,
With these old dirty lights of mine,
I have seen many things,
With these old glass eyes of mine.

These eyes which crack in the corners,
Which cry when the frosts melt,
Their intricate art,
Lost for all time,
Which rattle when the winds blow especially strong,
Which try,
In vain,
To keep the ever closer sounds of a new world,
From passing in,
To disturb the little souls I guard,
I have seen many things,
With these old glass eyes of mine.