Mother, what will Thomas, the old gardener say When you ask him for flowers for me? Will he give you a rose he has tended with care? The fairest, fairest broom on the tree
What will the birds do, mother, in the spring? Will they gather the crumbs around our door? Will they fly from the trees and tap at my window Asking why Joe wanders out no more?
What will the kitten do, mother, all alone? Will he stop from his frolic for a day? Will he lie on the rug by the side of my bed As he did before I went away?
I've seen tears come in his honest eyes But he said it was the wind that brought 'em there As he gazed on my cheeks growing paler everyday His hand trembled over my hair
Keep Tag, mother, my poor little dog I know he will mourn for me too Keep him in old and unless he grows Sleeping all along summer through
Show him my coat, mother, so he'll not forget His master then will be dead Speak to him kindly and often of Joe Pat him on his brown shaggy head
And you, mother dear, may you miss me for a while? But in heaven no larger I grow And any kind angel will open the gate When you ask for your darling Little Joe
And any kind angel will open the gate When you ask for your darling Little JoeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
