bill monroe
little joe
What will the birds do, mother, in the spring Will they gather the crumbs around our door Will they fly from the nest to the top of the tree And ask why Joe wanders out no more What will the kitten do, mother, all alone Will she stray from her frolic for a day Will she lie on the rug beside my bed Like she did before I went away What will Thomas, the old gardener do When you ask him for flowers for me Will he give you a rose he has tended with care The fairest one that lies around the tree I saw the tears coming to his honest eyes He said it was the wind that brought 'em there As he gazed on my cheeks growing paler each day His hand trembled over my hair Keep Tag, mother, my little dog I know that he'll mourn for me too Keep him though blind and older he grows To sleep in the whole summer through Show him my coat, mother, so he may know That his master then will be dead Speak to him kindly and often of Joe And pat him on his brown shaggy head And you, dearest mother, shall miss me for a while But in heaven I shall no larger grow And any kind angel you meet at the gate Can take you to your darling Little Joe