Ragged Pat - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
RAGGED PAT. 
They call me Ragged Pat, my clothes and my hat. Although they are tattered and tore; Sweet flowers, my friend, they stuck to the end Until poverty came at the door. When I was a small lad I had a bad dad, Mean and cruel in his ways; Each dollar and cent for whiskey he spent Until death came and carried him away. 
Chorus. Flowers! Bouquets! Flowers! I cried; While roaming the street, I do not look neat, I'm struggling for mother and I. 
My mother she was taken sick and forced to her bed, And there she lingered with pain; She called me to her bed, and this is what she said: Oh, what shall I do to be saved? The next morning I arose, went out into the street To earn one penny for bread: When I returned home my sad heart did mourn To find that my mother was dead. 
Chorus. "Evening Sun!" Papers! "Evening Sun! "I cried; While roaming the street, I do not look neat, I'm struggling for mother and I.