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Show written for Ths Sentinel, Languishing in J at i I . Tune "The Drunkards Own Child." Ailwaa journeying to Salina one day The marshal met me and thus he did say: You must now go with mt, sir, and that without with-out fail. "I here now arrest you" a prisoner for jail, cooaus. Oh! my heart is in anguish nnd my cheeks they grow pale, To feel that I must languish a summer in jail. To Manti they too bme, my trial to hare, My courage forsook me, I was no longer brave, I then plead for mercy, but could not prevail, So the judge passed my sentence to be confined In jail. Chorus, Oh ! my heart, etc. I thought of my mother with her locks of gn J, My a9tt,r and my brother, oh! whit woijUl they say? My children will weep, my wife she will wail When she hears the sad message that I am Jfl jail. Chorss, Oh! my heart, etc. The white robes of winter have fallen over the hills, The brooklets are voiceless and silent the rilla, The storm king is raging and the night winds they wail, While here I must shiver and suffer in jail. CUoms, Oh! my heart, etc. The young spring In verdure on the valleys has smil'd. And her voice is as tweet as the voice of a criid. 4 Fair flowers arespringingo'erhill and o'er dale And the birds they are singlDg while I lan guish in jail Chorus, Oh ! my heart, etc. We soon shall haveiummer and all nature will bloom, But I'll be imprisun'd in my living tomb. The perfume of flowers will float on the gale. While i pass the sad hoars alone here in jail. Chorus, Oh! my heart, etc A. M. Blaschabd. |
