Sung by: Emma Puterbaugh Medlin
Recorded on 8/12/63

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He spied her at the window so high,
And it filled his heart with joy,
Saying, “You can see I’m almost frozen.
I’m a soldier’s poor little boy.
My mother died when I was born;
My father, he went to the war,
And now I’m almost frozen.
I’m a soldier’s poor little boy.”

Then down she came from her window so high,
And opened wide her cottage door,
Saying, “Come in, you poor little boy;
You never will roam any more.
I had a son slain on the battlefield--
He was my pride and joy--
And as long as I live, a home I will give
To a soldier’s poor little boy.”

(Comment by Mrs. Medlin: “I didn’t get the beginning of that.”)

Also found in Randolph, Vol. IV, #718; Brown, Vol. II, #151; Belden, p. 273.

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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