Collected by Max Hunter
Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by Mrs. Gladys Everly
April 20, 1958
Reel 236, Item 8
While strolling one night through New York's gay throng,
I met a poor boy who was singing a song;
Although he was singing, he wanted for bread,
And though he was smiling, he wished himself dead.
Cold blew the blast and down came the snow;
He had no place to shelter him, nowhere to go;
No mother to guide him, in the grave she lies low;
Cast on the cold street was poor little Joe.
A carriage passed by with a lady inside;
I looked on poor Joe's face and saw that he cried;
He followed the carriage, she not even smiled;
But fondly caressed her own darling child.
I looked on this waif and I thought it was odd;
Is this poor, ragged urchin forgotten by God?
Then I saw by the lamplight that shone o'er the snow
The pale, deadly features of poor little Joe.
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