Save My Father's Picture from the Sale.
Written by Walter Burnot. Composed by Sam Redfern.
Tis many years ago, in the time of frost and snow,
My poor old father felt ill and he died;
Though but a child then, for my age was scarcely ten,
They cast me friendless on the world aside;
My father went the pace all through life's busy race,
And when he died it was the same old tale-
For the little one bereft there was next to nothing left,
They even put his picture up for sale.
My father's face, his dear old face,
His loss I ever shall bewail;
Don't break an orphan's heart, from that don't bid me part,
Oh, save my father's picture from the sale.
In the auction-room they laugh'd, they bargain'd, and they chaff'd,
But I sat in the corner sad to mourn,
Whilst every relic old of my childhood's days they sold,
I felt as though my heart was racked and torn.
The chair on which he sat, and with me used to chat,
All passed away like chaff before the gale;
My heart beat fierce and fast, I was forced to say at last:
Oh, save my father's picture from the sale.-Chorus.
But the picture was passed round, and a bidder quickly found,
In a lovely little angel English girl,
With cheeks of rosy hue and eyes of heaven's blue,
Her head a mass of sunny, golden curls-
Even now for her I'd die-she whispered: "Do not cry,"
To joy she turned my sad and piteous wail,
She bought it, and for me, with happiness and glee,
She saved my father's picture from the sale.-Chorus.