Collected by Billy Whitfield and Steve Butler For M. C. Parler
Sung by Otis Williams Wesley, Arkansas December 27, 1959
Reel 327, Item 3
Put My Little Shoes Away
Mother dear come bathe my forehead, I’m growing very weak.
Let the clear and cooling water Fall upon my burning cheek.
Tell my loving little playmates That I never more shall play.
Give them all my toys, but mother Put my little shoes away.
Santa Claus, he brought them to me With so many other things.
And I think he brought an angel With a pair of long wings.
Mother soon I'll be with Jesus Ere perhaps on other day.
Then, oh then, my loving mother Put my little shoes away.
Soon the baby will grow larger,
They will fit his little feet.
Won't he look so nice and tidy As he walks along the street.
Mother now I'm going to leave you So remember what I say.
Then, oh then, my darling mother Put my little shoes away.
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