This song can be found at the Lester S. Levy Collection. Click to view the PDF file.


THE UNGRATEFUL SON
(John Walsh)
New York: Willis Woodward & Co., 1886

1. A poor old man of seventy and his wife of sixty-two,
One night in winter when the snow fell fast,
They were making for the workhouse, for they were too old to toil,
And they knew their span of life was closing fast.
He, loving words was speaking to the poor old weary lass,
When his eye that moment rested on his son;
Who then tried to avoid him and pass on the other side,
But the old man spoke these words ere he was gone:

CHORUS: "You have quite forgot your father, now he's feeble, poor and old.
You have quite forgot your poor old mother too.
You think yourself above us, now you're worth a lot of gold,
But you never know what time may bring you too, you too."

2. "You quite forget the time, my lad, when you was so dear to me,
When the other five by death were torn away,
And we freely spent our wealth on you our only loving son,
To make you what you are in the world today.
We pinch'd and saved for you, my lad, and tended thee for years."
Just then the old man bent beneath the strain,
And the mother too with bended head was shedding bitter tears,
And in sobbing tones these words were heard again: CHORUS

3. The son had listen'd for some time, then he answer'd with a curse,
"I cannot keep you. I've now no time to stay.
I have told you what I mean and now don't bother anymore,"
And with those words he pass'd upon his way.
The man and wife drew closer and both taking hand in hand,
They trudged along with head and heart bow'd down,
And as the workhouse door was closed upon this poor old aged pair,
I seem'd to hear the breeze bring back the sound: CHORUS.