Cat. #0585 (MFH #672) - As sung by Almeda Riddle, Heber Springs, Arkansas on October 23, 1965
VERSE 1
There was this lettle Lady Gay
An' children she had three
Sent them off to th North Count-try
For t' learn their grammer-ree
VERSE 2
Now, they'd been gone for about two weeks
I'm sure it was not three
When death, sweet death swept over th land
And took those babes away
VERSE 3
An' what do you reckon that Mother will say
When she does hear the news
She'll cry aloud and wring 'er hands,
Where are my three little babes
VERSE 4
T'was Christmas time, O th nights were cold
Th wind blew loud and cold
Those three little babes came flying down
All into their Mothers room
VERSE 5
Now, her table was spread in th finest room
An' the finest cloth spread on
Sit there, sit there, my three little babes
Portake of bread and wine
VERSE 6
We cannot eat your bread, dear Mother
We cannot drink your wine
For yonder stands our own dear Sav-iur
Waiting for our return
VERSE 7
The bed was made in th finest room
An' th finest sheets spread on
Lie there, lie there, my three little babes
Till in th morning soon
VERSE 8
We cannot sleep in your bed, dear Mother
Till in th morning soon
For yonder stands our own dear Sav-iur
Waiting for our return
VERSE 9
Then the elder said to the younger one,
T'will soon be time we're gone
For there He stands with 'is out stretched hands
He's waiting for our return
VERSE 10
O, why do you grieve, our, Mother dear
Why do you, so weep
The tears you shed over our grave
Hath wet our winding sheet
VERSE 11
Then they spread their wings an' away they flew
All in th morning soon
An' what do you think that Mother will say
When she wakes an' finds them gone