"No home, no home, " cried an orphan girl,

voiceMountain Home, Ark. December 1963 Reel 436, Item 7 Collected from: Gertrude Johnson Collected by: Carolyn Wood The Orphan Girl "No home, no home, " cried an orphan girl, At the door of a princely hall, As she trembling, stood on the polished steps And leaned on the marble wall. Her clothes were thin and her feet were bare, And the snow did cover her head, "Oh give me a home," she feebly cried, "Yes a home, and a bit of bread." My father, alas, I never knew, And the tears dimmed her eyes so bright. "My mother sleeps in a newly made grave; "Tis an orphan begs tonight." The night was dark and snow fell fast But the rich man shut his door, His proud face frowned as he scornfully said: "No room, no bread, for the poor." "I must freeze," she said, as she sank on the steps And tried to cover her feet, With her tattered dress, all covered with snow; Yes covered in snow and sleet. The hours passed by and the midnight clock, Rang cut like a funeral knell, The earth seemed wrapped in a winding sheet And the drifting snow still fell. The rich man slept on his velvet couch, And dreamed of his silver and gold, While the little girl lay on her bed of snow, And mummered, "So cold, so cold." The night wore on and the midnight chimes, Rolled out like a funeral knell, The earth seemed wrapped in a winding sheet, And the drifting snow still fell. Morning dawned and the little girl, Still lay at the rich man's door, But her spirit had fled to that home above, Where there's room and bread for the poor.Funding for digitization provided by the Arkansas Humanities Council and the Happy Hollow Foundation