THE TRAMP'S SONG
61
THE TRAMP'S STORY
Any work for me! No! I am sorry—
For I'm weary, and hungry and cold;
You're wishing to hear my life's story?
'Tis the first time it ever was told.
Yes, friend, I will tell you. A sorrow
Extinguished the flame from life 's lamp;
Which made me a wanderer—an outcast—
And why I am now called—a tramp.
For I'm weary, and hungry and cold;
You're wishing to hear my life's story?
'Tis the first time it ever was told.
Yes, friend, I will tell you. A sorrow
Extinguished the flame from life 's lamp;
Which made me a wanderer—an outcast—
And why I am now called—a tramp.
Well friend, I once was as happy
As that little boy over there,—
My cheeks were as rosy and chubby,
And my soft, golden curls just as fair.
But I then knew the care of a mother—
A mother as noble and good
As God ever gave to a fellow,
And she did just the best that she could,
As that little boy over there,—
My cheeks were as rosy and chubby,
And my soft, golden curls just as fair.
But I then knew the care of a mother—
A mother as noble and good
As God ever gave to a fellow,
And she did just the best that she could,
To show me the path straight and narrow,
And I never once wanted to stray
Away from her side, where she taught me
Each morning, and evening, to pray.
And I never once wanted to stray
Away from her side, where she taught me
Each morning, and evening, to pray.
