Why She didn’t Stay in the Poorhouse.
No, I didn’t stay in the poorhouse, and this is how, you see,
It happened at the very last, there came a way for me.
The Lord, he makes our sunniest times out of our darkest days,
And yet we fail most always to render His name the praise.
But, as I am goin’ to tell you, I have a home of my own,
And keep my house, an’—no, I’m not a-livin’ here alone.
Of course you wonder how it is, an’ I’m a-goin’ to tell
How, though I couldn’t change a jot, the Lord done all things well.
I’ve spoke of Charlie and Thomas, and Rebecca, “that lives out West;”