"The Little Wanderer's Appeal" (1870)
Words from a song published by J. Henry Whittemore & Co.
Music by George Frederick Root, 1820-1895

Cincinnati, OH: John Church & Co.
Chicago, IL: Geo. F. Root & Sons
[Source: pp. 186-187 from "The Prize"]

1. 
No parents to love me, no kindred or home! 
My couch is the pavement, uncared for I roam; 
The bleak winds of winter through each garment steal,
As fainting with hunger still onward I reel.

CHORUS
O pity me, lady, 
Forsaken and lone; 
Since life’s early morning 
No friend  have I known.

2. 
She sweeps by me proudly, she heeds not my grief; 
The price of that trinket would purchase relief. 
Within thy bright parlors I seek not to bask, 
A crust and a shelter are all that I ask.

3. 
Amid the grim shadows of gathering night 
Her form disapears from the wanderer’s sight; 
No ray of compassion, alas! can she feel; 
As soon would yon tower hear thy sad appeal.

4. 
Time’s chariot rolls onward, and day slowly breaks; 
But when from its slumbers the city awakes, 
The poor little orphan is free from all care; 
Those lips are as marble which uttered this prayer.