My mother’s old rocking chair
Was given to me.
My eyes fill with tears
As the past I can see.
My mother knew love,
Eased every pain.
I can just feel her
Rocking me again.
Rocking, gently rocking.
A toothache, an earache,
Cuddled to her warm breast.
Oh, that wonderful mother
Today as I boarded a bus,
I saw a lovely girl with golden hair.
I envied her, she seemed so gay,
And I wished I were as fair.
When suddenly she rose to leave,
I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and wore a crutch,
But as she passed, she flashed a smile.
Of all the fathers I recall,
mine had to be the best of all.
I loved to feel his hands on mine
when we washed up at supper time,
and later, when we went upstairs,
I wanted him to hear my prayers.
He was the one to dim the light
when I had said my last good night.