American Old Time Song Lyrics: 13 Oh, Take Me Home To Die

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 13

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Oh, Take Me Home to Die.

My mother's hand I fain would feel
Laid on my aching brow;
My father's kiss would almost heal
The pain that racks me now.
I yearn at home to be caressed,
And breathe my latest sigh;
In this strange land I cannot rest,
Oh, take me home to die.

Oh, chide me not, the worth I know
Of those who watch me here;
But still I cannot meet the foe
'Till kindred tones I hear.
A wounded dove will seek its nest
When shades of death are nigh;
And like that dove would I be blest.
Oh, take me home to die.

The few that stood beside her bed,
And watched with kindly care;
Before the sands of life had sped,
Had answered all her prayer.
The frail and wasted one they bore
To view her native sky;
And ere life's fitful dreams were o'er,
They took her home to die.
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