I’ve done my best to do what’s right,
But, Lord, I’m sad and weak to-night.
Father, mother, oh, plead for me—
Tell Christ I long with you to be!’
‘Get up, you brat, don’t pray ’round here,’
The landlord yelled with rage and fear,
Then, like a brute, he hit the lad,
Which made my blood just b’iling mad.
I guess I must uv hurt his head,
For I struck hard for the man that’s dead.