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The Lone Pilgrim - Doc Watson



     
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The Lone Pilgrim Lyrics


I came to the place where the lone pilgrim lay
And pensively stood by his tomb,
When in a low whisper I heard something say,
"How sweetly I sleep here alone.The tempest may howl and the loud thunder roar,
And gathering storms may arise,
But calm is my feeling, at rest is my soul.
The tears are all wiped from my eyes.The cause of my Master compelled me from home,
No kindred or relative nigh.
I met the contagion and sank to the tomb,
My soul flew to mansions on high.Go tell my companion and children most dear
To weep not for me now I'm gone.
The same hand that led me through scenes most severe
Has kindly assisted me home."

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Arthel Lane "Doc" Watson (March 3, 1923, Deep Gap, North Carolina – May 29, 2012, Winston-Salem, North Carolina) was a guitar player, banjo player, songwriter and singer of bluegrass, folk, country, blues and gospel music. Doc played guitar in both flatpicking and fingerpicking style, but was best known for his flatpick work. His virtuosity combined with his authenticity as a mountain musician made him a highly influential figure during the folk music revival.

Read more about Doc Watson on Last.fm.


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Doc Watson