| Oh father tonight they say you are, | 
| To wed another bride, | 
| That you will hold her in your arms, | 
| Where my dear mother died. | 
| They say her name is Mary too, | 
| The name my mother bore, | 
| But Father is she kind and true, | 
| Like the one we loved before. | 
| And is her footstep soft and light, | 
| Her voice so meek and mild, | 
| And father do you think she’ll love, | 
| Your blind and helpless child. | 
| Oh father do not bid me come, | 
| To welcome your newmade bride, | 
| I could not greet her in the room, | 
| Where my dear mother died. | 
| But when I’ve cried myself to sleep, | 
| As I so often do, | 
| Into my chamber you may creep, | 
| My new made mama and you. | 
| He turned away to leave the room, | 
| A joyful cry was given, | 
| He turned about and he knew at last, | 
| His blind child had gone to Heaven. | 
| They buried her by her mother’s side, | 
| And erected a marble square, | 
| And there on the tomb these words do read, | 
| She’ll not be blind up there. |