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DRUNKARD’S CHILD Sung by: Mrs. Russell Vaughan Recorded in Memphis, TN Click here to listen to the original recording These tears roll down my cheeks, Or think it’s strange, indeed, That I should own a grief or speak. But oh, my grief is very great; My brain is almost wild. It breaks my heart to think that I Must be a drunkard’s child. A drunkard’s child, oh Lord, how sad, For Mother was so mild, But now she’s sleeping in the tomb, And I’m an orphan child. My father never stays at home; He’s drinking all the while. It breaks my heart to think that I Must be a drunkard’s child. My playmates, they all shun me now, Or pass me by in scorn, Because my dress is ragged, And my shoes are old and torn, And if I heed them not, “There goes The drunkard’s child,” they cry. Oh, how much then I wish that God Would only let me die. Oh, Father, you used to dress so neat, And we had much to eat. Mother and I were nicely clad, And life did seem so sweet. You never spoke unkindly then, Nor dealt an angry blow, But Father, dear, ‘tis sad to think How rum has changed you so. Oh, Father, look to God through faith. His love can make you whole. His power can cleanse that appetite And save your sin-sick soul. Oh, Father, heed his patient call, His tender words of love, And follow in dear Mother’s steps To mansions bright above. A drunkard’s child, oh Lord, how sad, For mother was so mild, But now she’s sleeping in the tomb, And I’m an orphan child. My father never stays at home; He’s drinking all the while. It breaks my heard to think that I Must be a drunkard’s child. Also found in Randolph, Vol. II, #331. |
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All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas Back to the Song Index Back to the Wolf Collection Homepage ©Copyright 2002 Lyon College |