Collected by Iola Stone For Mary Celestia Parler Transcribed by Iola Stone
Sung by Mrs. Susie Wasson Springdale, Arkansas August 8, 1959
Reel 284, Item 1
The Orphan Girl
No home, no home, plead a little girl At the door of a princely hall,
As she trembling stood on the marble step And leaned on the polished wall.
My father, alas, I never knew,
And the tears dimmed her eyes so bright,
My mother sleeps in a new-made grave,
'Tis an orphan begs tonight.
It was cold and dark and the snow fell fast,
But the rich man closed his door,
With his proud lips curled with scorn he said:
No home nor bread for the poor.
I must freeze, she said, as she sank on the step And strove to wrap her feet,
With her tattered dress all covered with snow, Yes, covered with snow and sleet.
The rich man slept on his velvet bed And dreamed of his silver and gold,
While the orphan lay on a bed of snow And murmured so cold, so cold.
The hours passed on and the midnight stars Rolled out like a funeral knell,
The earth seemed wrapped in its winding sheet And the drifting snow still fell.
The morning dawned and the orphan girl Still lay at the rich man's door,
But her soul had gone to a home above,
Where there's room and bread for the poor.
Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.