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 meat.
5. They are driven forth from the midst of men; they cry after them as after a thief.
6. In the clefts of the valleys must they dwell, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7. Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they are gathered together.
8. They are children of fools, yea, children of base men; they were scourged out of the land.
9. And now I am become their song, yea, I am a byword unto them.
10. They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and spare not to spit in my face.
11. For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me, and they have cast off the bridle before me.
12. Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they thrust aside my feet, and they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
13. They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, even men that have no helper.
14. As through a wide breach they come: in the midst of the ruin they roll themselves upon me.
15. Terrors are turned upon me, they chase mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away as a cloud.