He was only a tramp ! The organ grinder,
Fast in the thronging way,
Rolled the notes of the dear old tune

That his mother used to play.

He looked at his rags his worthless hands-
He touched his tresses grey,

And heard the notes of the lilting tune
His mother used to play.

' Move on !' He drifted adown the street

The kissless and weary way ;
But his feet kept time to the dear old tune
That his mother used to play.