The cold wind blows|
O'er the drifted snows,
Loud howls tine rain-lash'd naked wood
Weary I stray,
On my lonesome way,
And my heart is hurt for want of food;
Pity a wretch left all forlorn,
On life's wide wintry waste to mourn;
The gloom of night fast veils the sky,
And pleads for your humanity.
2. On valour's bed|
My Henry died,
In the cheerless desert is his tomb;
Now lost to joy
With my little boy,
In woe and want I wander home.
O never, never will you miss
The boon bestow'd on deep distress,
For dear to Heav'n is the glist'ning eye,
That beams benign humanity.
| Song Index | Home Page |