1 But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2 Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished.
3 They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.
4 They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.