Somebody's sorrow is making me weep; I know not her name, but I echo her cry, For the dearly bought baby she longed so to keep, The baby that rode to its long-lasting sleep; In the little white hearse that went rumbling by.
Somebody's sorrow is making me weep; I know not her name, but I echo her cry, For the dearly bought baby she longed so to keep, The baby that rode to its long-lasting sleep; In the little white hearse that went rumbling by.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories