The whip-poor-will at twilight’s glow was singing,
The cricket chirp’d it’s “Goodnight” lullaby,
The dear old village bells were sweetly ringing,
As you held me in your arms and said, “Goodbye;”
You told me of a love that naught could sever,
Of happy days when you and I should wed,
You kissed my lips to part perhaps, forever.
Then held my hand a moment while you said:
When the whip-poor-will sings Marguerite,
And forget-me-nots bloom at your feet,
You may know though you yearn, that to you I’ll return,
Love’s old story again to repeat;
So be true little girl I entreat,
Till the time when again we shall meet,
Let love’s star brightly shine,
I’ll return sweetheart mine,
When the whip-poor-will sings Marguerite.
For weary days I’ve waited your returning,
I’ve longed to see your dear face once again,
The whip-poor-will is singing, I am yearning,
For my longing and my waiting was in vain;
‘Neath dear old southern shies tonight you’re sleeping,
The Swanee river flows upon its way,
For old time’s sake your love I still am keeping,
At twilight’s glow, I seem to hear you say:
Denison, C M. and Helf, J Fred, "When the Whip-Poor-Will Sings Marguerite" (1906). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 1722.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.