Words and Music by Harry Kennedy, Ventriloquist. Sung by R. G. Little.
I've a casket at home that is filled with precious gems; I have pictures of friends dear to me, And I've trinkets so rare, that came many years ago, From my far distant home across the sea. But there's one sweet little treasure that I'll ever dearly prize, Better far than all the wealth beneath the wave; Tho' a small faded flow'ret, that I placed in childhood's days, 'Tis a flower from my angel mother's grave.
Chorus - Treasured in my memory, like a happy dream, Are the loving words she gave, And my heart fondly cleaves to the dry and withered leaves - 'Tis a flower from my angel mother's grave.
In the quiet country churchyard they laid her down to sleep; Close beside the old home she's at rest, And the low, sacred mound is enshrined within my heart, By the sweet tics of love forever blest. In the still and silent night I often dream of home again, And the vision ever tells me to be brave; For the last link that binds me to the place I love so well, Is the flower from my angel mother's grave. - Cho.
Wm. J. Schmidt, 360 Mulberry Street, Baltimore. Publisher of American, English, Irish, Dutch, Negro, Sailor, Soldier, Comic, Humorous, College, Sentimental, Social and Religious, Choice Selected Standard Songs.
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