Our Willie Dear Is Dying
Our Willie Dear Is Dying | |
Stephen Foster, 1861
| Our Willie, dear, is dying, love, And thou art far away; His little breath is sighing, love, And cannot last till day. To night while sitting by his side I heard him speak of thee |: My father's coming home, he said, With presents bright for me. :| Refrain: Come with an eagle's flight, Come like a beam of light, Come, love, come home tonight; Our Willie dear is dying. | 2. His blooming checks have faded, love, The light has left his brow; His eyes are dim'd and shaded, love, You would not know him now. And when the fever rages, With a sad and restless moan, |: His feeble voice then warns us There is death with in that tone. :| Refrain:
3. No grief that e'er befell me, love, |