GAMBLIN' SON
(learned from an unidentified tape during the 1960s)
A poor unworthy son once dared
From their advice he turned away
Who can tell the mother's thought
His father, sixty years of age,
But nothing could the counsellors do
His poor old mother cried aloud,
Don't weep for me, my mother dear
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)
To disregard a mother's care
He heeded not a father's word
Nor listened to a sister's prayer.
And cards and dice he learned to play
And then his comrade he did slay
While gamblin' on the Sabbath day.
When unto her the news was brought
The sheriff said her son was caught
And into prison he was brought.
The best of counsel did engage
To see if something could be done
To save his disobedient son.
The testimony was too true
'Twas he the ugly weapon drew (pronounced "wheppin")
And pierced his comrade's body through.
Oh, God please save this gaping crowd
That none of them be lost away
By gamblin' on the sabbath day.
When I am safely laid away
For on the scaffold I must pay
For gamblin' on the sabbath day.