Sung by: Mrs. Alice Isringhouse
Recorded in Holly Grove, AR 6/15/59

Click here to listen to the original recording

The judge was there, the jury too,
And people from afar.
A fair young lad of tender youth
Was a prisoner at the bar.
The great courtroom was crowded with
People in anger strong,
But many a poor heart was aching there
From the lad who was accused of wrong.

A maiden there with golden hair
Stepped swiftly through the crowd.
The people gazed and wondered, yet
Not a word was spoken aloud.
While stepping to the jury stand,
One moment she did pause.
While smiling through her tears, she said,
"Judge, let me plead his cause."

"Now, judge, your mind must wander back
To those long years gone by,
And see your sweetheart and yourself,
Just like this lad and I.
Now remember, judge, you once was a boy
Just like this fair young lad;
And if you convict him on this charge,
You'll drive him to the bad.

"Next Sunday was our wedding day,
A pride of a woman's life,
And to the altar we would go
To make me his dear wife.
But if you intend to blot our lives,
And say that we must part,
Remember, judge, your darling wife
Was once your dear sweetheart."

The judge rose softly from his seat,
And these few words he said:
"I have a little girl at home
With such babyish eyes.
I cannot convict him on this charge.
The jury will have to decide."

The jury did not leave the room,
But briefly signed a note.
"Not guilty," was the only words;
"Not guilty," was all they did say.
Your love will clasp you in his arms;
Love always has its way.

Also found in Randolph, Vol. IV, #828.

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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