Archive for the ‘roaming’ Tag

The Little Old Church in The Valley

In the little old church in the valley
Where I first learned of sorrow and joy
I can see mother there with her head bowed in prayer
As she prayed for her wandering boy
Oh twas there that I first found my Sally
Like an angel on earth so it seems
As she sang sweet and low in the long long ago
In the little old church of my dreams

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When Its Lamp Lighting Time In The Valley

There’s a lamp shining bright in a cabin
In the window it’s shining for me
I know my dear mother is praying
For the boy she is longing to see

When its lamp lighting time in the valley
And In dreams I go back to my home
I can see that old lamp in the window tonight
It will guide me wherever I roam

In the lamp light each night I can see her
As she rocks in her chair to and fro
Tho she prays that I’ll come back to see her
But I no that I never can go

As she lights up the lamp and sitts waiting
Though she knows not the crime I have done
Tho I hope to meet her again sometime
Up in Heaven where life’s race is won

When its lap lighting time in the valley
Then in dreams I go back to my home
But Ive sinned against my friends and my loved ones
And now I must ever more roam

Your As Welcome As The Flowers In May

Las night I dreamed a sweet sweet dream
I thought I saw my home sweet home
And oh how grand it all did seem
I made a vow no more to roam
By the dear old village church I strolled
While the bell in the steeple sadly told
I saw my Daddy old and gray
I thought I heard my Mother say

Your as welcom as the flowers in May
And we love you in the same old way
We’ve been waiting for you day by day
Your as welcome as the flowers in May

I thought I saw my sweetheart Bess
And once again we pledged our love
I listened to her low sweet yes
The moon was shinning from above
We talked of happy days of yore
And the day that I left my home heart sore
My thoughts are many mines away
I long to hear my Sweetheart say

When The Sun Goes Down Again

I hear a whippoorwill a cryin’
The sun is sinkin to rest
And I sit all alone a cryin’
Longing for the home I left way out in the West
Ill never learn to be a roamer
No matter how I try
And when the next train leaves this town
I’ll tell you all Good-bye

When the sun goes down again
Im going to be where I belong
I’ll be comin around the bend
And in my heart there’ll be a song
It won’t take long to forget
That I ever wanted to roam
And unless I miss my guess
I’ll learn each word of Home Sweet Home
When I hear my old dog beggin
I’ll be at my journey’s end
I can hear the old folks sayin
Welcome home our long lost friend
I’ll throw away my walkin shoes
I never want them on again
I’ll lay my head on a feather bed
When the sun goes down again

My Blue Ridge Mountain Home

I never thought that I could be so sad
Till I left my mountain home
But the time is a comin When I’ll be so glad
And I never more will roam
For I’ve learned a lesson that I won’t forget
Wherever I may be
And oh how Im longing for the folks back home
For they mean more than all the world to me

When the moon goes to shinin Then my heart goes to pinin
For my Blue Ridge Mountain Home
With the pine trees swayin And the hound dogs a layin
That is where I long to roam
When the sun comes a beamin Then I start to dreamin’
Of a place where flowers bloom
When I get back again Im going to live till the end
In my Blue Ridge Mountain Home

The Dying Cowboy

One evening at sunset as I rode o-re the prairie
The nightengales singing and all things so gay
I chanced as I spied there a handsom young cowboy
All dressed in white linen and this he did say

Oho beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
And play the “Dead March” as you bare me along
Take me to the prairie and turn the sod o’re me
For Im a wild cowboy and I know I did wrong

Oh once in my saddle I used to go dashing
Oh once in my saddle I used to go gay
But I first took to drinking and then to card playing
Got shot in the breast and Im dying today

Go gather together my friends ‘mong the cowboys’
And bit them lament their companion’s sad fate
And go tell the others this warning I give them
Go quit their wild roving before its to late

Will somebody write to my poor aged mother
And send the sad news to my sister so dear
And still there’s another more dear than the other
Who would bitterly weef if she knew I were here

Get six gay young cowboys to carry my coffin
And six fair young maids to go singing along
Let each of them carry a bunch of red roses
To strew ore the grave of a boy who done wrong

Will somebody fetch me a cup of cold water
A cup of cold water the poor fellow said
But ere they had brought it his sould had departed
And fled to it’s Maker the Cowboy was dead

When The Bloom Is On The Sage

Do most folks spare the spot that lives forever
Deep down in their fondest memories
Though I have been roaming I have never
Seen a place where I would rather be

When it’s roundup time in Texas
And the bloom is on the sage
Then I long to be in Texas
Back a riding on the range
Just to smell the bacon frying
When its sizzling in the pan
Hear the breakfast hour in the early morn
Drinking coffee from a can

Just a-ridin rockin ropin
Pounding leather all day long
just a swayin sweating smearin
Listen to a cowboy song

Now it beckons and I reckon
I would work for any wage
To be free again just to be again
Where the bloom is on the sage