Death of the Infidel's Daughter

This item is part of the I. G. Greer Folksong Collection which consists of more than 300 individual song titles and their variants as collected by Isaac Garfield Greer (1881-1967) from informants, primarily in Ashe, Wilkes and Watauga counties. The collection includes manuscripts, typescript transcriptions produced by Dr. Greer’s clerical staff, and handwritten musical notations. Songs range from traditional Child Ballads, traditional English and Scottish ballads as well as their American variants, to 19th century popular music to musical compositions of local origin.

Death--Songs and music

Salvation--Christianity--Songs and music

Fathers and daughters--Songs and music

Hell--Songs and music

The Infidel's Daughter

AC.113 Isaac Garfield (I.G.) Greer Papers and Recordings

W. L. Eury Appalachian Collection, Appalachian State University

Greer, I. G. (Isaac Garfield), 1881-1967

PDF

English

Text

For Owen Mills

Death of The Infidels Daughter
(Tune-After the battle mother)

Father I am surely dying, fainter and fainter grows my breathe
And the sharp pains Oh my father, can they be the sting of death,
I am going Oh my father, with the lost ones to dwell,
Oh my father why did you tell me, that there was no burning hell.

Father I have trusted in you, I believed as you believed,
I have never never doubted, but I've been so deceived,
This creed here that we have followed, may be alright to live by
But I really can't believe it, now that I have come to die.

CHORUS
Farewell father you'll remember, while my soul is in the flame
But tho you'll not forget me father, for you know you've been to blame.


Oh, my father don't believe it, Oh I see the firey flame,
Father when I am in torment, don't forget you've been to blame,
Just remember what I've told you, Oh I know that it is hell,
I can hear the lost ones wailing, and I am going there to dwell,

In the years to come remember, that through you my soul was damned
It will be brought up against you, at the judgement as you stand,
Now goodbye for I am dying, going with the lost to dwell,
May this prove to you a warning, God forgive you now farewell.

(How about this for a tear jerker?)

Owen Mills, 1821-1892

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