Driven from Home


The words and Music of this Song will be sent to any address, post-paid, on receipt of 40 cents, by H. J. Wehman, P.O. Box 1823, New York City. Catalogue of Songs, Books, Novelties, &c., sent free.


Out in this cold world, out in the street,
Asking a penny of each one I meet;
Shoeless I wander about, thro’ the day,
Wearing my young life in sorrow away.
No one to help me, no one to love,
No one to pity me, none to caress—
Fatherless, motherless, sadly I roam;
A child of misfortune, I’m driven from home.

The flowers that bloomed, that I once loved to see,
Seem bowing their heads, as if pitying me;
The music that mingles with voices of mirth,
From the windows of pleasure and plenty on earth,
Makes me think what it is to be friendless and poor;
And I feel I shall faint when I knock at the door;
Turn a deaf ear, there’s no one will come,
To help a poor wanderer, driven from home.—

Oh! where shall I go, or what shall I do?
I’ve no one to tell me what course to pursue;
I’m weary and footsore, I’m hungry and weak,
I know not what shelter to-night I may seek.
The Friend of all friends, who rules earth and sea,
Will look with a pitying eye upon me;
I’ll wander about, till His messenger somes,
To lead me to father and mother, and home!—

H. J. Wehman, Song Publisher, 50 Chatham St., New York.

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