Oh, what will the birds do, mother, in the spring,

voiceCollected by Max Hunter (H-9) For Mary C. Parler Transcribed by Frances Majors Sung by Mrs. Ethel Hunter Springfield, Missouri June 29, 1958 Reel 251-52, Item 13 Darling Little Joe Oh, what will the birds do, mother, in the spring, Little brown birds round our door? Will they harp at the door or chirp at the window, Asking why Joe wanders out no more? Oh, mother dear, you will miss me for a while, But in heaven no larger will I grow; And any kind angel will know at the gate When you call for your darling little Joe. Oh, what will my kitten do, mother, all alone? Will he stop his frolicking for a day? Will he lie on the rug by the side of the bed, As he did when I once went away? Then love tight, my mother, my poor little dog, For you know he will mourn me for true; Speak kindly to him and often of Joe, And pet him oh his brown, shaggy head. Oh, what will old Thomas, the gardner, say, When you ask him for flowers for me? Will he give you the rose he has tended so long, Or the first fair flower of the tree? I saw the tears come in his honest old eyes, And he said 'twas the wind brought them there, As he gazed on my face growing paler each day, And his hand trembled over my hair. Then poor Uncle Jack in the far away camp, He will feel sad o'er the letters you write; Tell him, dear mother dear, I have gone to the front, Marching nearer and nearer to the fight.Funding for digitization provided by the Arkansas Humanities Council and the Happy Hollow Foundation