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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required There are homely tricks my mother would do, One peculiar think after another she could brew, Just give her a dozen eggs to break through, And watch her turn them into running shampoo. One peculiar thing after another she could brew, 'Cause her fingers were magical and quite true, Nothing was too hard to do, nothing at all I could construe, I loved her more than ever for everything she'd do. 'Cause her fingers were magical and quite true, That was my mother at the start of every day blue, No matter what she always managed to imbue, Bringing then a touch of wisdom with every déjà vu. That was my mother at the start of every day blue, For fortunes cold, for despairs in a house taboo, Rounding up a bunch of kids to take into a field of view, Thus they see the world, as it truly is tried and true. For fortunes cold, for despairs in a house taboo, Where old men abused and sought to overdo, Therefore I learnt love was twisted but never askew, Mother was proof enough I wouldn't misconstrue. Where old men abused and sought to overdo, Laughing at deaf children who couldn't carry through, Having tainted their view of the world so blue, But my mother she made do and protected us true. Laughing at deaf children who couldn't carry through, Just to play along she thought was best to do, It was the love she held for us that prompted it too, Which in turn gained my respect for mother blue. Just to play along she thought was best to do, She was the strong one that kept us together I tell you, For all she's done for me and my siblings I love true, The fistfights over nothing in particular I couldn't undo. She was the strong one that kept us together I tell you, Without heart for violence our love she warmed to, And I saw all the tiring effort she put into loving us true, That woman, my mother so to speak was quite shew. Without heart for violence our love she warmed to, Giving strength to us her children who would rue, That not loving her dearly may cost us her love due, And we'd be resigned to walking the streets blue. Giving strength to us her children who would rue, Our mother indeed she lifted us up to be true, Loving us with all her heart quite through and through, Right up to this day we owe her everything too. Our mother indeed she lifted us up to be true, It was her way to show us the right path to pursue, Until old age claimed her strength and will to do, Still she wouldn't be beaten in her fragility I tell you. It was her way to show us the right path to pursue, Nonetheless she was out of tricks to keep us true, We'd in that left the nest she'd comforted us in so blue, Tho' to this day our love's never waned or is skew.
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