Mt Mother's Voice

I rode by that old home place yesterday And noticed that the grass and weeds were tall I stopped the car and sat upon the wooden doorsteps And I thought I heard my mamma give me a call She said supper’s on the table, come on in son Wash your hands and make sure that they’re clean But when I turned my head toward that voice That sweet mother of mine could not be seen The wind blew through the cracks in the woodwork As I stepped inside that dark and drafty hall I felt my mamma’s presence close beside me As I ran my fingers gently along the wall Twenty years I lived behind this front door Before I finally left for another life I left my mamma and papa to themselves As I moved to the big city with my wife Several years ago we buried papa And last year mama lay right next door But when I stepped inside that drafty hallway I still felt their memories forever more Slowly I made my way back to the city To my wife’s open arms that feel so fine But every now and again I visit the home place Just to hear my mammas voice one more time She says supper’s on the table, come on in son Wash your hands and make sure that they’re clean But when I turn my head toward her voice That sweet mother of mine cannot be seen