The eastbound train was crowded, one cold December day.
The conductor shouted, hiccup, in an old-time-fashioned way,
A little girl in satin hair, her hair as bright as gold.
She said, I have no ticket, but just a little story told.
My father, he's in prison, he's lost his sight, they say.
I'm going for his pardon, this cold December day.
My mother's daily sowing, she's trying to earn her bread.
My poor dear old blind father is in prison almost dead.
My brother and my sister would both be very glad,
If I could only bring back my poor dear old blind dad.
The conductor could not answer, he could not make reply.
While taking his rough hands and wiping, the tears fell from his eyes.
He said, God bless you little one, you stay right where you are.
You'll never need a ticket, while I am on this car.