Mountain Home, Ark.
Collected from: Reba Dearmore December 1963
Collected by: Carolyn Wood
Reel 435, Item 1
The Soldier s Poor Little Boy
The snow was fast falling The cold north wind did roar A poor little boy half frozen Stepped up to a rich lady's door.
He spied her at the window so high And it filled his heart with joy.
Say oh, for mercy sake Please pity on me take I'm a soldier's poor little boy.
My mother died when I was young;
My father went to the war;
Many a mile on his knapsack,
He has carried his poor little boy.
The lady at the window so high,
Said, "I'll open the door unto hime;
Come in, come in you poor little boy,
And you never shall wander again."
My own dear son on the battle field lies;
My only pride and joy.
As long as I live, a home will I give,
To a soldier's poor little boy.
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