We all walk the tight-ropes stretched out for us
With wrinkled fore-heads and bright, frightened eyes
For life is a struggle known to all
But the height of some ropes are just too tall

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But with all the troubles that accompany me
I’ll walk along it delicately
And not a minute will I stop
To view the earthly-propped stride
That others carry as the glide

For it would only make me fall
When my feet would slide
And the I know I couldn’t balance up so high
Without a parasol to tide

Only one faltering step
And I’m doomed to go on down
And as I know, down there, below
There is no single help
No net, no stretch, not even, a muddy ditch
To help me if I take that faltering step

Then without even a stick to guide,
I must go on, with none but stride!