This is called Anna.
Anna was Mary's mother.
Speaks of the childhood of Mary, her daughter.
Now I think Anna did what I would do.
I think Anna probably felt like, wow, who needs it?
My daughter is going to go and have a baby in a stable.
She's not going to marry that man.
And I thought this might be a feeling
that Anna might have had.
Anna speaks of the childhood of Mary, her daughter.
We rise up early and we work.
Work is the medicine for dreams.
That dream I am having again.
She washed in light.
Whole world bowed to its knees.
She on a hill looking up, face all long, tears.
And shall I give her up to dreaming then?
I fight this thing.
All day we scrubbing, scrubbing.