| Come all you tenderhearted |
| Your attention I will call |
| I’ll tell you how it started |
| Come listen one and all |
| Last Wednesday, there was a light |
| Seen shining on the hills |
| A mother and her daughter might |
| While everything was still |
| She went into a neighbor’s |
| Some hundred yards away |
| She sat down and talked with them |
| But she did not mean to see |
| Don’t stay to long dear mother there |
| For we’ll be lonesome here |
| I’ll give some … she said |
| Then I’ll return again |
| But when she started home again |
| Her house was in flames |
| She cried «Oh Lord, my babies are gone |
| And I’m the one to blame» |
| She cried «Alas, how sad they sleep |
| Wrapped up in the red hot flame» |
| She bursted all asunder then |
| And the flames rolled over her head |
| Their little bones lay on the ground |
| They both lay face to face |
| Each other did entwine |
| Each other did embrace |