American Old Time Song Lyrics: 28 No Father, No Mother, No Home

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 28

No Father, No Mother, No Home!
Copyright, 1881, by Benj. W. Hitchcock.
Words by George Cooper. Music by William Dwyer.

Dead in the pitiless street, and friendless, forsaken, unknown,
No one to fondly repent the name of that child-waif so lone;
Where were the kind, loving eyes, to watch while his footsteps might roam?
Dead 'neath the blue, arching skies, no father, no mother, no home.
Only three bright golden curls to tell who he was 'neath you dome-
Pity that little child-waif-no father, no mother, no home.

Lost In the whirl of the crowd, and needing a mother's dear care,
Spurned by the rich And the proud, so young and so pure and so fair
Ye who have children so sweet, oh, pity these waifs as you roam.
Dead in the pitiless street, no father, no mother, no home.
Only three bright golden curls to tell who he was 'neath yon dome-
Pity that little child-waif-no father, no mother, no home.

Gone from the pain and the strife, the angels are clasping him now.
Gone from the struggle of life, the sunlight of God on his brow;
No one to care for them here, thus ever around us they roam,
No one to shed but a tear, no fattier, no mother, no home.
Only three bright golden curls to tell who he was 'neath yon dome-
Pity that little child-waif-no father, no mother, no home.