Collected by Marvin Wallace For Mary C. Parler Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by Buck Buttery Lincoln, Arkansas August 19, 1958
Reel 281, Item 21
The East Bound Train
The east bound train was crowded One cold December day;
The conductor shouted "Tickets"
In his old time fashion way.
A little girl sat in sadness;
Her hair was bright as gold.
She said, "I have no ticket,"
And then her story told.
"My father is in prison;
He’s lost his sight, they say;
I'm a-going for a pardon This cold December day.
"My mother’s daily sewing To try to earn our bread,
While poor, dear, old, blind father's In prison, almost dead."
The conductor did not answer,
Nor made the least reply;
And he . . . with his old, rough hand Wiping tear drops from his eyes.
He said, "All right, my little one. Just set right where you are;
You'll never need a ticket While I am on this car."
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