Death is a Melancholy Call Death is a melancholy call, A certain judgment for us all. It takes the young as well as the old And takes them in his arms so cold. And it's awful, awful, awful. I saw a youth the other day, And in his bloom he looked so gay, Who trifled all his time away And sank into eternity. When he was lying on his deathbed Eternity he seemed to dread; He says, "Dear Lord, I see my state, And I am afraid I've come too late." With dear parents and friends a-weeping round, With tears a-flowing to the ground, He says, "Dear parents, pray for me, For I am bound for eternity." A tender sister came weeping by. Says she, "Dear brother, you are going to die Your joys are o'er, your days are past And you are a-going to your grave at last" A few more breaths he seemed to breathe Before he took his final leave: "So, father and mother, fare you well; I'm dragged by demons down to hell." His corpse was laid beneath the ground With brothers and sisters weeping round With aching hearts and troubled minds To think their brother's in hell confined. "Oh, my heart aches, and my heart mourns To see you all so unconcerned. Repent, believe, while you have time Before you are in hell confined.' DT #718 Laws H5 collected in 1911 From Belden, Ballads and Songs (Missouri) SOF oct96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!