THE TRAMP'S SONG
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THE TRAMP'S STORY
Any work for me! No! I am sorry— For I'm weary, and hungry and cold; You're wishing to hear my life's story? 'Tis the first time it ever was told. Yes, friend, I will tell you. A sorrow Extinguished the flame from life 's lamp; Which made me a wanderer—an outcast— And why I am now called—a tramp.
Well friend, I once was as happy As that little boy over there,—My cheeks were as rosy and chubby, And my soft, golden curls just as fair. But I then knew the care of a mother— A mother as noble and good As God ever gave to a fellow, And she did just the best that she could,
To show me the path straight and narrow, And I never once wanted to stray Away from her side, where she taught me Each morning, and evening, to pray.
