| Come all you tenderhearted
|
| Your attention I will call
|
| I’ll tell you how it started
|
| Come listen one and all
|
| Last Wednesday, there was a light
|
| Seen shining on the hills
|
| A mother and her daughter might
|
| While everything was still
|
| She went into a neighbor’s
|
| Some hundred yards away
|
| She sat down and talked with them
|
| But she did not mean to see
|
| Don’t stay to long dear mother there
|
| For we’ll be lonesome here
|
| I’ll give some … she said
|
| Then I’ll return again
|
| But when she started home again
|
| Her house was in flames
|
| She cried «Oh Lord, my babies are gone
|
| And I’m the one to blame»
|
| She cried «Alas, how sad they sleep
|
| Wrapped up in the red hot flame»
|
| She bursted all asunder then
|
| And the flames rolled over her head
|
| Their little bones lay on the ground
|
| They both lay face to face
|
| Each other did entwine
|
| Each other did embrace |