THE WIDOW'S PLEA FOR HER SON.
Copyright, 1893, by Louis H. Ross & Co.
All rights reserved.

The Words and Music of this Song will be sent to any address, post-paid, on
receipt of 40 cents; or this and any two ther Songs for One Dollar,
by Henry J. Wehman, 130 & 132 Park Row, New York. Postage Stamps
taken same as cash for all our goods.

Composed by Lewis Hall.

I strolled into a court-house not many miles from here,
A boy stood in the prisoner's dock, his mother she was near;
The boy was quite a youngster, but he had gone astray,
And from his master's cash box he had taken some coin away.
The boy address His Honor, while the tears rand down his cheek.
Said he, "Kind sir, will you allow my mother there to speak?"
His Honor then consented, while the boy hung down his head,
And turning to the jurymen, these words his mother said:

CHORUS.
Remember, I'm his other, and the prisoner there's my son,
And, gentlemen, remember, it's the first crime that he's done.
Don't send my boy to prison, for that would drive me mad;
Remember, I'm a widow, and I'm pleading for my lad.

The lawyer for the prosecution at the widow commenced to frown,
And politely asked His Honor if he'd order her to sit down.
He said it was disgraceful, and a gross insult, indeed,
His Honor to sit on that bench and allow that woman to plead.
THe widow's eyes flashed fire, and her cheeks turned deadly pale;
She said, "I'm here to try and save my offspring from the jail.
Altho' my boy is guilty -- I own his crime is bad,
But who's there that's more fit to plead that a mother for her lad?"

CHORUS.
Remember, I'm his mother, and the prisoner there's my son,
And, gentlemen, remember, it's the first crime that he's done.
Don't send my boy to prision, for that would drive me mad;
Remember, I'm a widow, and I'm pleading for my lad.

The judge then addressed the prison, and these words to him did say:
"I'm sorry to sit on this bench, and see you here to-day.
I will not blight your future, but on your crime I frown,
For I can't forget that I have got some children of my own.
I therefore will discharge you" -- and the court then gave a cheer --
"BUt remember that it's chiefly through your widowed mother there.
I hope you'll prove a comfort, and no more make her sad,
For she has proved there's no one clings like a mother to her lad."

CHORUS.
Remember, she's his mother, and the prisoner there's her son,
And, gentlemen, remember, it's the first crime that he's done.
Don't send her boy to prison, for that would drive her mad;
Remember, she's a widow, and she's pleading for her lad.

See Archive.org here: https://archive.org/details/5552509/page/n1299/mode/2up?q=%22don%27t+send+my%22&view=theater

This is, perhaps, the original song which was parodied.