Collected by Merlin Mitchell
Transcribed by Mary C. Parler
Mrs. Opal Donahue
December 10, 1950
Reel 85, Item 2
Down by the Window where my Mother Used to Pray
Long, long ago in the days of my childhood,
Bright were the joys when I set on Mother's knee.
Or, when she would lay her dear hand on my forehead,
Down by the window where my Mother used to pray.
Oh, bear me away on the breeze of the morning,
Oh, bear me away to my old home far away,
Oh, let me kneel down by that old family Bible
Down by that window where my mother used to pray.
There let the rose with its fragrance surround her,
There let the pines . . .
There let the birds throw sweet songs around her,
Down on the hillside by my dear old mother's grave.
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