Collected by Gladys McChristian
For Mary C. Parler
Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by Gladys McChristian
Huntsville, Arkansas
July 16, 1958
Reel 246, Item 12
Soldier's Poor Little Boy
The snow was fast a-falling,
The night wind loudly roared,
When a poor little boy, quite frozen,
Came up to a rich lady's door.
He spied her from her window so high,
Which filled his heart with joy,
Saying, "For mercy sake, some pity on me take,
I'm a soldier's poor little boy.
"My mother died when I was young,
My father's gone to the war;
A-many a battle brave he has fought,
He's covered with wounds and scars.
A-many a mile on his knapsack,
He's carried me with care,
But now I am left quite parentless;
I'm a soldier's poor little boy."
Then up she rose from her window so high,
And quickly opened the door.
"Come in, come in, you poor little boy,
You never shall wander any more.
For my only son in battle was slain,
My pride, my joy, my all;
Just as long as I live, some shelter I'll give
To the soldier's poor little boy."
