Father, please, don't drive me out in the street,
There among strangers no pity to meet;
See how poor mother is weeping, I pray,
And father, for her sake, don't drive me away.
You never speak kindly, your looks are so wild.
Oh, smile as you used to, upon your poor child;
Dear father, have pity, don't tell me to go
Out in the streets tonight, out in the snow.
Ragged and hungry, alone on the street,
Walking about in the cold and the sleet;
Wild is the tempest, I've nowhere to go;
What will become of me, out in the snow?
Drink no more, father, look up in my face,
Blushing for shame at the sin and disgrace;
Why are you always so cruel and wild?
Have you no love for your poor wife and child?
Our home is so dreary, O! father, just think,
You gave you last penny for something to drink;
And now, in my hunger, you force me to go
Begging for help tonight, out in the snow.
Cease to abuse me, I'll do as you say.
But first let me kneel by my mother and pray;
Don't strike me, I'll go, with a heart fill'd with pain!
I feel that I shall never see you again.
O! let me kiss mother, heartbroken and lone;
May Heaven have pity on her when I'm gone.
If I die in the streets, who one tear will bestow
On the poor wanderer, out in the snow?