The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #25225   Message #1525949
Posted By: Jim Dixon
22-Jul-05 - 11:14 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: Over the Hill to the Poorhouse
Subject: Lyr Add: OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE
This seems to be the original that Flatt and Scruggs' version was based on.

From Duke University's 'Historic American Sheet Music' collection:

(It has a beautiful engraved cover.)

OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE
Song and Chorus
Written and composed expressly for and sung
By
Mr. James W. McKee,
Character and Comic Vocalist
Words by George L. Catlin. Music by David Braham.
1874

1. What, no! It can't be that they've driven
Their father so helpless and old
(O God, may their crime be forgiven!)
To perish out her in the cold!
O heavens! I am saddened and weary!
See the tears, how they course down my cheeks!
Oh, this world it is lonely and dreary
And my heart for relief vainly seeks.

CHORUS: For I'm old and I'm helpless and feeble.
The days of my youth have gone by.
Then over the hill to the poor-house;
I wander alone there to die.

2. Ah me! On that old doorstep yonder
I've sat with my babes on my knee.
No father was happier or fonder
Than I of my little ones three:
The boys, both so rosy and chubby,
And Lily with prattle so sweet,
God knows how their father has loved them,
But they've driven him out in the street!

3. It's long years since my Mary was taken,
My faithful, affectionate wife.
Since then, I'm forlorn and forsaken
And the light has died out of my life.
The boys grew to manhood. I gave them
A deed for the farm, aye, and more.
I gave them this house they were born in,
And now I'm turned out from its door.

4. Oh, children, loved children, yet hear me:
I have journeyed along on life's stage
With the hope that you all would be near me
To comfort and cheer my old age.
My life-blood I'd gladly have given
To shield and protect you, but hark!
Through my heart breaks, I'll say it's you've driven
Me out here to die in the dark.

5. But perhaps they'll live happier without me.
Farewell, dear old home, ah, farewell!
Each pathway and tree here about me
Some memory precious can tell.
Well, the flowers will bloom bright as ever,
And the birds sing as sweet to the morn;
Then over the hill from the poor-house
Next spring the old man shall be borne.