Little Orphan Girl

No home, no home, said a little girl At the door of a rich man's home She trembling stood on the marble steps And leaned on the polished wall Her clothes were thin and her feet were bare And the snowflakes covered her head Let me come in, she feebly said Please give me a little bread As the little girl still trembling stood Before that rich man's door With a frowning face he scornfully said No room, no bread for the poor Then the rich man went to his table so fine Where he and his family were fed And the orphan stood in the snow so deep As she cried for a piece of bread The rich man slept on his velvet couch And he dreamed of his silver and gold While the orphan lay in a bed of snow And murmured, so cold, so cold The hours rolled on through the midnight storm Rolled on like a funeral bell The sleet came down in a blinding sheet And the drifting snow still fell When morning came the little girl Still lay at the rich man's door But her soul had fled away to its home Where there's room and there's bread for the poor --- Little Orphan Girl - Doc Watson