4

George Collins



George Collins rode home one cold winter night,

George Collins rode home so fair;

George Collins rode home one cold winter night,

Was taken sick and died.



Little Mary was sitting in yonders parlor,

A sewing her silk so fine;

But when she heard that George was dead,

She laid her silk aside.



"O daughter, O daughter, what makes you do so?

There's plenty more boys than George;

"O mother, O mother, he's got my heart,

But now he's dead and gone."



She followed him up, She followed him down,

She followed him to his grave;

And there she knelt upon her knees,

She wept, she mourned, she cried.



"Set down the coffin, screw off the lid,

Lay back the linen so fine;

And let me kiss his pale cold lips,

For I'm sure he'll never kiss mine."



No caress of mine can wake him,

All he cries is "Rum, oh rum";

All my fondest hopes are perished,

They have faded one by one.

(Sung to me by my mother, April 11, 1939) - M. B.