The Poor Little Paper Boy

When my mother was a child, she read and memorized a poem found in her local newspaper. The writer unknown, my mother adopted the poem for herself. She and a neighbor girl set it to music, and thus a lamentable tune was born. She later sang it to her children. I wish I could record it for posterity, could convey the feeling behind the bluegrass sound my mother had. Until then, I'll just have to play it in my mind. Here's the poem, however one-dimensional its presentation:

Please buy a paper from me
So I can get me something to eat
His clothes were all ragged, no shoes on his feet
The poor little paper boy there on the street

Early one morning, the people passed by
They wondered why the little boy wasn't there
They searched and they searched, and found him dead
He died with a newspaper under his head.

--author unknown