I'm alone, all alone, my friends all have fled.
My father, he's a drunkard; my mother, she is dead.
I'm a poor little child and I wander and weep
For the voice of my mother to sing me to sleep.
I'm alone, all alone, in this cold world so wild;
God look down and pity a drunkard's child.
In pity look down and hasten to me
And take me to dwell with mother and thee.
She sleeps on a hill in a bed of cold clay;
How sad it did seem to lay mother away.
She is gone with the angels and none do I see;
So dear is the face of my mother to me.
I'm alone, all alone, in this cold world so wild;
God look down and pity a drunkard's child.
In pity look down and hasten to me
And take me to dwell with mother and thee.
It is springtime on earth and the birds are so glad;
I listen and I wonder, my heart is so sad.
Sweet flowers around and strangers pass by,
But the form of my mother no longer is nigh.
