Mother

If I was rash and joined a gang, and did those thing for which I’ll hang, If I became a brute of fame, And cared not for the sick and lame, You’ll always be my mother. I might just up and go to Mars, Or take a ship off to the stars, Or became a monk and never call, And think of nothing else at all, You’ll always be my mother. So mark my life to good or bad, There’s one thing that I’ll ever have, You’ll always be my mother.