The Week Before Easter
de Jim Moray
As I was a walking one morning in Spring,
To hear the larks whistle and the gully-birds sing,
I heard a sweet maiden a making a moan,
But alas I'm a stranger a long way from home.
I came from Sweet England with my mother and dad,
And I thought in America all could be had,
Of Gold and of silver and acres galore,
And I'll never meet hunger and poverty more.
But alas for Sweet England my father is dead,
And my mother can learn but there's little for bread,
And I dream as I gaze o'er the far distant Main,
For a fine ship to take me to England again.
Now my mother is dead, and I'm left all alone,
But if I were in England no more would I roam,
And the aunt's in the country and she loves me amain,
So won't some ship take me to England again?
There's a neat little cottage with a rose at the door,
And there with my aunt I would live my life o'er,
And nurse her in sickness and tend to her pain,
And thank God I'm back in Sweet England again.
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