Crooked Still Lone Pilgrim
My Dad
Artist
His Son
Yesterday I came to the place where Dad lay.
and pensively stood by his tomb.
when in a low whisper I heard someone say
"how sweetly I sleep here alone"
"the tempest may howl and the loud thunder roar
and gathering storms may arise
but calm is my feeling at rest is my soul
the tears are all wiped from my eyes
the cause of my master compelled me from home
no kindred or relative nigh
i met the contagion and sank to my tomb
my soul flew to mansions on high
go tell my companion and children most dear
to weep not for me now i'm gone
the same hand that lead me through scenes most severe
has kindly assisted me home"
