The Little Old Red Shawl

The Little Old Red Shawl.
165.7

It now lies on the self, it is faded and torn,
That dear old shawl my mother wore
Tis all that is left for this heart to adore,
To bring to mind theme
How often the handa happy days tpo these folde have been pressed,
That now beneath the daisies are at rust
The tears come unbidden and wilently fail
To gleam ilke gems on mother’s old red shawl.

Chorus
It is useful no more, yet fondly I adore
That dear old shawl my mother wore:
And thro life it shall be a loved treasure to me.
That little ald red shawl my mother wore.

Oh, my heart often aches with a dull throbbing pain
When childhood’s visions come again,
And sadly I think of the days that are past.
Too joyous and too beautiful to last.
Oh, fond, lovely childhood, made bright by the smile
Of one whose love could every one beruite.
How gladly I’d fly from the world’s bitter thran
To seek eek the heart that throbb d beneath thi
Oh, how brightly ner face le my mem’ty appears:
That face so dear to chiiinhood’s years;
How sweet sounds her voice with a cadente of love.
Though now ’tis tund to melodien, aber
For life gildes away like a tale that in teid.
But joys of childhood navET CAD STYL
And visions of mother, so dear to
Come back wuene’er 1 healt. I see herald red stawl