Collected by Marvin Wallace For Mary C. Parler Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by Buck Buttery Lincoln, Arkansas August 19, 1958
Reel 281, Item 13
Little Adobe Shack
Love to sit alone at night,
While the moon is shining bright;
The stars up in the heavens wink at me.
And to sing the dear old songs That my mother used to sing,
As she cradled me upon her loving knee.
I can hear the whipperwill;
He's calling for me still;
He sings a song to me of peace and rest.
He seems to say to me,
Come back to your used-to-be,
To your little adobe shack away out west.
I can hear the cattle lowing As I stroll along the trail;
And can see the moon that is shining on the plains. It sends its light from heaven To that 'dobe door of mine,
Sends its silvery tint through every blot and stain. (Chorus)
So I'm going back some day,
But the debt I can't repay
To that little 'dobe shack where I was born.
The door is tumbled in
And the roof lets in the rain,
Yet it shelters me from every wind and storm.
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