Sung by: Neal Morris
Recorded in Mountain View, AR 9/2/61

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Oh, unto me the time draws near
When you and I must part.
No one can know the grief and woes
Of my poor aching heart,
Nor what I’ve suffered for your sake;
Believe me when I say,
You are the girl that I’ll love best
Until my dying day.

I wish my breast was made of glass,
Wherein you might behold
Your name engraved upon my heart,
With letters lined with gold.
Your name is sacred to my heart,
'Tis you I love so dear.
I wish that you could go with me,
Or I could tarry here.

I wish I was ten thousand miles
Upon some lonesome shore,
Away to the rocks and the mountains high
Where the wild beasts howl and . . .
And when I’m far and distant away,
Think of your absent friend,
And if an opportunity suits,
A letter to me send.

When the wind blows fair to you, my love,
Send me a sigh or two.
You need not doubt but I’ll repay
When the wind blows fair to you.
When the warm wind blows fair to you, my love,
When the wind blows fair to you,
You need not doubt that I’ll repay
When the wind blows fair to you.

The crow that is so black, my love,
Will surely turn to white,
If I ever prove false to you, my love,
Bright day will turn to night.
Bright day will turn to night, my love,
The elements will turn,
The fire will freeze and be no more,
And the raging seas will burn.

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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