 | Late songs |  |
31
THE PRAYER
She drew the grey shawl round her head;
“Sure it is bitter cold,” she said;
“An' is there news of him, asthore?”
God help the mothers of the world!
“Sure it is bitter cold,” she said;
“An' is there news of him, asthore?”
God help the mothers of the world!
“I do be prayin' to mesel'
The Lord may keep him safe and well
An' bring him back to his mother's door.”
God help the mothers of the world!
The Lord may keep him safe and well
An' bring him back to his mother's door.”
God help the mothers of the world!
“The lambs are perished wid the storm.
God keep his darlin' head from harm!
It's well for her has ne'er a one!”
God help the mothers of the world!
God keep his darlin' head from harm!
It's well for her has ne'er a one!”
God help the mothers of the world!
And as I went my way I heard
Her call like a lamenting bird:
“I used to fret that had no son.”
God help the mothers of the world!
Her call like a lamenting bird:
“I used to fret that had no son.”
God help the mothers of the world!
| Late songs | |