They tell me, Father, that tonight
You'll wed another bride
That you will clasp her in your arms
Where my dear Mother died
They say her name is Mary, too
The name my Mother wore
But tell me father is she kind
As the one you loved before
And is her step so soft and light
Her voice so meek and mild
And tell me father will she love
Your blind and helpless child
(Violin solo)
Her picture is resting on the shelf
Her books are lying near
And there's the harp her fingers touched
And there's her vacant chair
The chair whereby beside I knelt
To say my evening prayer
Oh Father, do not bid me come
I could not meet her there
Well his head fell back and his eyes were closed
His little dark curly hair
And the very last words that the blind child spoke,
"There'll be no blind ones there."
And the very last words that the blind child spoke,
"There'll be no blind ones there."
Writer(s): Traditional, Glyn Michael Owen
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