Little Joe Lyrics - Bill Monroe

Mother, what will Thomas, the old gardener say 

When you ask him for flowers for me? 

Will he give you a rose he has tended with care? 

The fairest, fairest broom on the tree 

What will the birds do, mother, in the spring? 

Will they gather the crumbs around our door? 

Will they fly from the trees and tap at my window 

Asking why Joe wanders out no more? 

What will the kitten do, mother, all alone? 

Will he stop from his frolic for a day? 

Will he lie on the rug by the side of my bed 

As he did before I went away? 

I've seen tears come in his honest eyes 

But he said it was the wind that brought 'em there 

As he gazed on my cheeks growing paler everyday 

His hand trembled over my hair 

Keep Tag, mother, my poor little dog 

I know he will mourn for me too 

Keep him in old and unless he grows 

Sleeping all along summer through 

Show him my coat, mother, so he'll not forget 

His master then will be dead 

Speak to him kindly and often of Joe 

Pat him on his brown shaggy head 

And you, mother dear, may you miss me for a while? 

But in heaven no larger I grow 

And any kind angel will open the gate 

When you ask for your darling Little Joe 

And any kind angel will open the gate 

When you ask for your darling Little Joe