by James Ephriam McGirt (1874 - 1930)
Nothing to Do
Language: English
The fields are white; The laborers are few; Yet say the idle: There's nothing to do. Jails are crowded; In Sunday-schools few; We still complain: There's nothing to do. Drunkards are dying -- Your sons, it is true; Mothers' arms folded With nothing to do. Heathens are dying; Their blood falls on you; How can you people Find nothing to do?
Authorship:
- by James Ephriam McGirt (1874 - 1930), written 1899 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Gary Bachlund (b. 1947), "Nothing to Do", 2008 [high voice and piano] [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2009-03-06
Line count: 16
Word count: 60