My Sister

My sister...lost her dolly,
Far off in the sage.
And the memories of that dolly,
Is sad upon a page.

The hills were rough and rugged,
And the gullies...they were deep.
When my sister...held her dolly,
And we went to herd the sheep.

She dropped her dolly in the rocks,
And we never could it find.
With tears upon her little face,
We left it there behind.

So often did I go back there,
Where sages grew so high.
But never could I find it.
I had to say...good-bye.

That dolly...O that dolly,
I know...she must of missed-her.
But never could we ever find,
That dolly... of my sister's.


E.P. 1908 - 1989