"Give me a kiss before I go,
And pray whilst I'm away,
That I may meet some Christian friend,
Who will not say me nay."
"Dear boy, the night is stormy,
Your ragged clothes are thin,
And soon the heavy rain-drops
Will wet you to the skin.
"I would go out myself, boy,
But, oh! I cannot rise,
I am too weak to dry the tears
That roll down from my eyes.
"I fear I soon must go, love,
And leave my boy alone.
And oh! what can you do, love,
When I am dead and gone?"
"Mother, you set me weeping,
Don't talk in such a strain,
Your tears are worse for me to bear
Than all the wind and rain.
"Wait till I'm rather bigger,
And then I'll work all day,
And shan't we both be happy
When I bring you home my pay?
"Then you shall have some tea, mother,
And bread as white as snow;
You won't be sickly then, mother,
You'll soon get well, I know.
"And when that time shall come, mother,
You shall have some Sunday clothes,
Then you can go to church, mother—
You cannot go in those.
"And then I'll take you walking,
And you shall see the flowers,
And sit upon the sweet green grass
Beneath the trees for hours.
"But I will haste away, mother,
I won't be long—good bye!"
"Farewell, my boy," she murmured,
Then she laid her down to die.