The Two Orphans
E. NASON & CO. SONG PUBLISHERS, 120 Fulton Street, New York
The Two Orphans, or, the Brooklyn Theatre Fire.
The evening’s bright stars they were shining,
The moonbeams shone clear on our land;
Our city was in peace and quietness,
The hour of midnight near at hand.
But, hark! Do you hear that cry? Fire!
How dismal those bells they do sound—
Our Brooklyn Theatre is burning!
Alas! burning fast to the ground.
The doors they were open at seven,
The curtain was rolled up at eight:
Them that had got seats they were happy,
Outside they were mad that were late.
The play it went on very smoothly,
’Till sparks from the scenes they did fly;
It’s then that men, women and children,
“O God! save our lives” they did cry.—
Next morn, in amongst those black ruins,
O God! what a sight met our eyes!
The dead they were lying in all shapes,
Some there that none could recognize!
Poor mothers there weeping and crying,
For sons that were out all that night;
O God! let their souls rest in heaven,
Amongst the innocent and bright.—
What means this large gathering of people,
Upon such a cold dreary day?
Or what means this long line of hearses,
With tops plumed in feathery array?
Far out to the cemetery of Greenwood,
Where the wind makes the lone willow sigh,
’Tis there where the funeral is going,
The poor unkown dead there to lie.—