Sung by: Irmadene Finch
Recorded in Miller, AR, 6/25/53

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They say tonight--tonight, dear Papa--
You'll wed a new-made bride,
And you will clasp her in your arms,
Where my own poor mother died.

They say her name is Mary, too,
The name that Mama bore.
Oh, Papa, will she be kind and true
Like the one you loved before?

Oh, are her footsteps soft and light,
Her voice so meek and mild?
Oh, Papa, will she love me, too,
Your blind and helpless child?

Oh, Papa, when you bids me to come
To greet your new-made bride,
Don't call me to greet her in the room
Where my own poor mother died.

Her picture's hanging on the wall;
Her books are lying near;
There's the harp her fingers touched,
And there sets the vacant chair.

The chair whereby I used to kneel
To say my evening prayer.
Oh, Papa, it would break my heart;
I could not meet her there.

Oh, come and kneel down by my side,
Let us to our dear Savior pray
That His right hand will lead you both
Up life's long weary way.

A prayer was offered, then a song.
I'm weary now, she said.
Oh, Papa, take me in your arms
And lay me on the bed.

And as he turned to leave the room,
One joyful cry was given;
He turned and caught the last sweet smile--
His blind child was in heaven.

They buried her by her mother's side;
A marble square was raised.
On it inscribed these simple words:
There'll be no blind ones there.

Also found in Randolph, Vol. IV, #724, "The Blind Child"; Brown, Vol. II, #149, "The Blind Girl"; Belden, p. 276, "The Blind Girl."

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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