As I sit in my tree shrouded trailer,

surrounded by memories untold,

as I sit here and look at the picture

that is hung in a frame of gold.

 

It is a picture of a lady

most beautiful, young and fair,

as I look at the life-like features

I cry in sad despair.

 

I know with all my memories and power

one thing I can never replace,

that in the trailer, there is absent

my wife's tender smiling face.

 

And each time I look at the picture

   these same words I often say.

all my life I would gladly forget it

and would toil for you night and day.

 

As I sit here and gaze at the picture,

forgetting in slumber or pain,

each night in my dreams I fancy

she stood by my side again.

 

My lips they softly murmur the

name of my once sweet bride.

With my eyes closed,

but toward the picture, I

awoke from my dream and cried.

 

If those lips could only speak,

if those eyes could only see,

and if only those auburn tresses

were back in reality.

 

If I could only kiss her hand

like the day she took my name,

but it is only a beautiful picture

that is hung in a golden frame.