There's a vacant chair in every home tonight / words by Alfred Bryan music by Ernest Breuer
Breuer, Ernest, 1886-1981. “There's a vacant chair in every home tonight / words by Alfred Bryan music by Ernest Breuer.” Digital Gallery. BGSU University Libraries, 16 June 2020, digitalgallery.bgsu.edu/collections/item/20186. Accessed 15 Aug. 2020.
|Title||There's a vacant chair in every home tonight / words by Alfred Bryan music by Ernest Breuer|
|Subject||World War, 1914-1918 -- Songs and music|
|Popular music -- United States|
|Soldiers -- Family relationships|
|Waltzes (Voice with piano)|
|Popular music -- 1911-1920|
|Songs with piano|
|Description||Waltz for voice and piano|
|Caption title: Pages 1-2 are unnumbered|
|Advertisement for other songs: p. |
|Cover illustration: drawing of a woman reading a letter with a framed picture of a solider on a nearby table / Barbelle|
|Creator||Breuer, Ernest, 1886-1981|
|Source||Sheet Music Collection; Music Library and Bill Schurk Sound Archives; University Libraries; Bowling Green State University|
|Publisher||New York (145 W. 45th St., N.Y.C. [N.Y.]) : Richmond|
|Contributor||Bryan, Alfred, 1871-1958|
|Alternative Title||First line of text: In ev'ry mansion ev'ry cottage all throughout the land;First line of chorus: There's a vacant chair that's waiting there|
VERSE 01: In ev’ry mansion ev’ry cottage all throughout the land,/There’s a mother heart that’s feeling blue,/Her darling boy is missing, he has gone with sword in hand,/To make our country safe for me and you,/In ev’ry mother’s eye there is a year,/And on her lips a prayer could you but hear.
CHORUS: There’s a vacant chair that’s waiting there,/In ev’ry home tonight,/And a lonesome mother’s dreaming,/By the fireside burning bright,/She is thinking of her gallant boy, who is fighting for the right,/There’s a vacant in ev’ry home, in ev’ry home tonight.
VERSE 02: She fondly gazes at his picture hanging on the wall,/Seems but yesterday he went away,/Her dear lips keep repeating, he’s the bravest boy of all,/I’m lonely but I’m proud of him today,/And oft she murmurs to herself alone,/I hope that I’ll be here when he comes home.
|Original Format||1 score (3,  p.) : col. ill. 35 cm|