Folk Songs

When we were little, my mom used to sing us these songs that I can only assume were from her childhood passed down to us. As an adult, I decided to look them up online and see if I could find them again. I realized it was sort of strange that my mom used to sing them to us, but it was even stranger that we used to beg her to sing them. You see, these songs are devastatingly, heartbreakingly sad. We'd cry and cry and cry and then ask her to sing them again. 

I looked up Little Boy Blue, and even at 25 years old I couldn't get through reading it without crying my eyes out. 

Strange tradition, yes, but it's my childhood nonetheless. So I thought I'd share them on my blog in an effort to pass on these folk songs to yet another generation. I like that they exist through my mom's songs alone and until now hadn't been written down. 

Little Boy Blue 

(I think this one is pretty self-explanatory): 

The little toy dog is covered with dust,

   But sturdy and stanch he stands;

And the little toy soldier is red with rust,

   And his musket moulds in his hands.

Time was when the little toy dog was new,

   And the soldier was passing fair;

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue

   Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,

   "And don't you make any noise!"

So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,

   He dreamt of the pretty toys;

And, as he was dreaming, an angel song

   Awakened our Little Boy Blue---

Oh! the years are many, the years are long,

   But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,

   Each in the same old place---

Awaiting the touch of a little hand,

   The smile of a little face;

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through

   In the dust of that little chair,

What has become of our Little Boy Blue,

   Since he kissed them and put them there.

Letter Edged in Black

The background on this one is that the guy singing this song was in prison when the postman handed him a letter written by his dad. 

I was standin' by my window yesterday morning

Without a thought of worry or of care

When I saw the postman comin' up the pathway

With such a happy face and jolly air.

He rang the bell and whistled as he waited

Then he said; "Good morning to you, Jack"

But he little knew the sorrow he had brought me

When he handed me a letter edged in black.

With trembling hand I took this letter from him

I broke the seal and this is what it said:

"Come home my boy, your dear old father wants you

Come home my boy, your dear old mother's dead."

I bowed my head in sorrow and in sadness

The sunshine of my life, it all had fled

When the post man brought that letter yesterday morning

"Saying come home my boy, your dear old mother's dead."

"The last words your mother ever uttered

Tell my boy I want him to come back

My eyes are blurred, my poor old heart is breaking

So, I'm writing you this letter edged in black."

"Forget those angry words that we had spoken

You know I didn't mean them, don't you, Jack

May the angels bear as witness, I am asking

Your forgiveness in this letter edged in black."