OH, weep for my father, the loved and the lost '
Oh, mourn for the days long ego!
Ere Time wrote its wrinkles upon his wa* brow,
Or cast o'er his temples its snow!
We laid him the green sod below:
Still the song, stay the dance, in our woe!
Nor sorrow nor sickness can torture him more;
The task-work of Life's day is o'er!

The lot of the poor, it is laden with woe;
But the heart makes amends for their pain:
He was blest, while my pale mother smiled o'er his
toil;
She died – and he ne'er smiled again!
We laid him the green sod below, &c.

Unfriended and feeble, he still tried to toil;
But the tears on his cheek never dried:
His bold sinews shrank, and his gentle heart broke f
And thus 'twas my poor father died!
We laid him the green sod below, &c

Oh, weep for the dead – he was gentle and true;
Oh, weep for the white-haired one gone '
He has gone to his rest, and he sita with the blest,
Bat, alas! he has left me alone!
We laid him the green sod below:
Still the song, stay the dance, in our woe!
Nor sorrow nor sickness can torture him more;
The task-work of Life's day is o'er!

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