The old mother

My dear old mother, poor thou art,

And toilest day and toilest night,

But ever warm remains my heart,

'Twas thou my courage did'st impart,

My arm of sturdy might.

Thou'st wip'd away each childish tear,

When I was sore distrest,

And kiss'd thy little laddie dear,

And taught him songs that banish fear

From ev'ry manly breast.

And more than all thou'st given me,

A humble true and tender heart;

So dear old mother, I'll love thee

Where e'er my foot may wander free,

Till death our lives shall part.

Mother, Mother, Mother.