Colt of an Ass
I am nothing great or special,
but through Zion's dusty gates
I bear the burden of the Lord.
They sing their vain Hosannas,
their cloaks spread on the earth;
they wave the palms with triumph.
None attend to me or know me,
but they would do better if they did:
for though this crowd may shout,
in all this people, this chanting mass,
I alone serve the one they praise.