THE STRANGER'S STORY.
Copyright, 1895, by E. T. Paull.
Words and Music by E. T. Paull.
One bright autumn evening, 'round an old inn door,
A merry group had gathered, recalling days of yore,
When in the ducky twilight, there appeared a man,
Whose step was slow and feeble, whose face was sad and calm:
Will you join our group-friend, has thy life been well?
Have you not a story that you to us can tell?
Yes, I have a story, one's that's sadly true,
And if you will listen, I'll tell it now to you:
Why do our loved ones leave us?
Why are our tears in vain?
Why is the sunlight darkened
And veiled by the mists of pain?
Many a heart is weeping,
E'en though the brow be clear,
'Neath the gladness sorrow,
Behind the smile a tear.
In a peaceful valley, 'neath the mountain shade,
Many years have vanished since I woo'd a maid;
Her cheeks were like the roses, hair like shining gold:
Her answer came with blushes when I my love had told.
I will love you always, with a heart that's true,
Thus replied my darling, as close to me she drew,
But before the roses from her checks had flown,
She 'neath the sod was sleeping, and I was left alone.- Chorus.
Little ones were playing 'round our cottage door,
Now their childish voices are hushed forevermore;
All was joy and gladness in our happy home,
But, alas! they're gone now, and I am left to roam.
She grew sad And lonely, for her darlings three,
Who had gone before her, leaving none but me;
Now you have my story. Sad although it be,
Yet I know they're watching And waiting there for me.-Chorus.