Hank Snow - Little Joe |
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Little Joe
Hank Snow Written by Recorded by What will the birds do, mother, in the spring When they stop to gather crumbs around the door Will they fly from the trees half as nice with glee Askin' why Joe wanders out no more Will he stop from his frolick for the day What will the kitten do, mother, all alone Will he lie on his rug by the side of my bed As he did before I went away What will Thomas, that old gardener, say When you ask him for flowers for me Will he give you a rose he has tended with care The first, fairest bloom of the tree I have seen the tears in his honest, old eyes But he said it was the wind that brought them there And his hand went trembling through my hair As he gazed on my cheeks growing paler each day Keep tied, mother, my poor little dog For I know he will mourn for me too Just keep him when old and useless he grows Sleepin' the whole summer through Show him my coat, mother, so he'll not forget His master who then will be dead Just speak to him kindly and often of Joe And pat him on his brown, shaggy head And you, dearest mother, may miss me for a while But in Heaven I'll no larger grow And any kind angel will know at the gate When you ask for your darlin' little Joe |
