The Little Blind Girl Songtext
von Rosie Hood

Twas a drear November morning
When the air was dull and chill
When we spied the poor blind girl
Left to die upon the hill
In her hand a written paper told her history short but sad
How thus lovely blind and starving
And why left so thinly clad

It said the hand of sickness reft away her infant sight
And the hand of death had left her motherless, an orphan quite
I know not how her father thus could leave his blind child there
Was it done with selfish feeling?
Or in passion′s wild despair?


But, alas, we must remember is his was an even mind
And he thought the girl how useless
Helpless, burdensome and blind
But we know not of his feelings
If his breast but heaved a sigh
As he left that little lone one on that hillside there to die

On that drear November morning
With the air so dull and chill
Spied we thus the poor blind girl
Crying, moaning on the hill
"Oh, it rains, the wind is blowing, mother!",
"Mother, let me in!"
Sadly, sadly she was crying
Wrapped in garments far too thin

Many friends the orphan helping
Pitying her sad distress
And the hand of life and kindness
Seeked to comfort, cheer and bless
Now within a home of plenty
There to tend with love and care
And the name by which we call her
Is the little gathered Pearl