Poor Little Joe

While strolling one night through New Yorks gay throng
I met a poor boy who was singing a song
And although he was smiling he wanted for bread
And although he was singing he wished himself dead
I spoke to this poor boy out in the snow
He had no place to shelter him no where to go
No Mother to guide him in the grave she is low
Lost on the cold street was poor little Joe

Cold blew the blast down came the snow
He had no place to shelter him no where to go
No MOther to guide him in the grave she was low
Died on the cold street did poor little Joe

A carriage passed by with a lady inside
I looked on poor Joes face and saw that he cried
He followed the carriage she not even smilied
but fondly caressing her own darling child
I looked on this wail and I thought it was odd
If this poor ragged urchin forgotten by God
And I saw by the firelight that shone in the snow
The pale deathly features of poor little Joe

The lights had gone out and the clock had struck one
Along came a policeman whos duty was done
I could tell by the sound of his duty heavy feet
You’d think he was sinking the grave of the deep
Oh what is this the policeman said
It was poor little Joe on the ground he was dead
With his face turned to heaven all covered with snow
Died on the cold street did poor little Joe

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