Coll. by Parler Mr. Albert Sallee
Vian, Oklahoma April 20, 1960
Reel 364, Item 5
The Blind Child
They say, dear Father, that tonight You've wed another bride,
That you will clasp her in your arms Where my poor mother died.
That she will lean her graceful head Upon your loving breast,
Where she who lies low in death In her last hours did rest.
They say her name is Mary too,
The name my mother bore,
And, Father, is she kind and true Like the one you loved before.
And is her step so soft and true,
Her voice so sweet and mild,
And, Father, will she love me too,
Your blind and helpless child.
Oh, please Father, don't bid me in To meet your new-made bride,
For I could not greet her in the room Where my poor mother died.
Her picture hanging on the wall,
Her books are lying there,
And there's the harp her fingers touched And there's her vacant chair.
The chair by which I used to kneel To say my evening prayer,
Oh, Father, it would break my heart,
I could not greet her there.
Oh, I know I love you, Daddy dear,
But how I long to go
Where God is light and I am sure
There'll be no blind ones there.
Oh, then he picked her up And he laid her on the bed,
And as he turned to leave the room One joyful cry was given,
He turned and caught the last sweet smile His blind child was in heaven.
-moreThe Blind Child Reel 364, Item 5
Oh, they buried her by her mother's side And raised a marble fair,
It was scribed in simple words,
There'll be no blind ones there
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