An Ole soul cries in his hole
He groans, he aches, His skin rough and dry.
He can no longer walk and he has no food.
He turns to the angels and ask why?
Just water they bring to quince his constant thirst.
His soul is old and it will soon disperse.
A melody he sang to praise them for the help.
He wasn't looking for money, for pity nor for wealth.
Only a drink to quince his daily thirst.
Upon the next visit the people began to say.... "That Ole Soul didn't live another day". For he had died.
Upon the Angel's departure from the small hole, in search of the Ole Soul, this Angel now cried.