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Soldier's Boy (3) The snow is fast a-falling, And the wind on loudly roars, When a poor little child, quite frozen, Came up to the rich lady"s door. He spied her from the window so high, Which filled his heart with joy: "For mercy sake, some pity on me take; I"m a soldier's poor little boy. "My mother died when I was young, My father went to the mar; And many a battle so brave he has fought, Always covered with wounds and scars. Many a mile on his knapsack He carried me with joy. But now I'm left quite parentless- I"m a soldier's poor little boy. "The snow is fast a-falling, The night is coming on, And if you don't protect me I shall perish before the morn." She rose up from the window so high And opened the door to him: "Come in, you young unfortunate child; Thou shalt never wander again. My only son in the war was slain, My pride, my all, my joy; And as long as I live, some shelter will I give To a soldier's poor little boy." From Ballads and Songs, Belden Collected from Midd Colquitt Newell, 1912 DT #536 Laws Q28 oct96