Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, / Less than the weed that grows beside thy door.

Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, less than the weed that grows beside thy door.

It's so invasive and grows like a weed.

Ill weed grows fast

Slavery is a weed that grows on every soil.

There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.