Out of my growing age from years ago,
You guided me to be a good fellow,
That wrong acts you wouldn't want me to do.
How precious you are, Mother, my recourse,
Grateful I am as son of yours,
Your sterling qualities cannot be bought nor sold
They’re for dearer than mines of gold.
Much you suffered when I was a baby
By my side you stayed watching over me,
When I awoke, on your arms you rocked me
And sang lovely song, a dreamy melody,
You taught me to see my conscience
And listen to its voice
That between right and wrong
I can make the proper choice.
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