Old Dog Tray (Stephen Collins Foster) The morn of life is past, And evening comes at last; It brings me a dream of a once happy day, Of merry forms I've seen Upon the village green, Sporting with my old dog Tray. Cho: Old dog Tray's ever faithful, Grief cannot drive him away. He's gentle, he is kind; I'll never, never find A better friend than old dog Tray. The forms I call'd my own Have vanished one by one, The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all passed away. Their happy smiles have flown, Their gentle voices gone; I've nothing left but old dog Tray. Copyright S. C. Foster, 1853 RG APR99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!