American Old Time Song Lyrics: 07 Don't Leave Your Mother When Her Hair Turns Gray

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 7

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Don't Leave Your Mother When Her Hair Turns Gray.
Copyright, 1884, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.

How well do I remember, though many years ago,
I journeyed down to Portsmouth, with my mother .you must know;
The ships were in the harbor, with flags and banners dress'd.
And weeping wives and children were waiting with the rest;
My father was a sailor on board a man-o'-war,
Who once again was going to leave us by the shore;
He kissed our lips at parting, while standing on the quay.
And as he bade us both good-bye, these words to me did say:

Stick to your mother, Tom, when I am gone,
Don't let her worry, lad, don't let her mourn;
Remember that she nursed you when I was far away;
Don't leave your mother when her hair turns gray.

Our hearts were dull and heavy, returning home again;
We scarcely spoke a whisper while riding in the train,
The journey seemed unending, and leaden was the sky.
Until we reached the station where home was very nigh;
The cottage looked so desolate, And vacant was the chair,
In which my father lingered whenever he was near;
I came and stood by mother, so full of hope and fear;
She fondled and caress'd me as she whisper'd through her tears:
Stick to your mother, Tom, &c.

The time rolled slowly onward, many changes had occurr'd,
But of the good ship Victor, for months we had not heard;
My mother grew so anxious, her cheeks were sad and pale,
And I was very fearful she suddenly would fail.
One day there came a telegram to say the ship was lost,
She foundered many miles away, when she'd been tempest tossed;
My mother fainted at the news, but when the swoou had fled.
I kissed her as I told her of the words my father said:
Stick to your mother, Tom, &c.

She lingered through the Summer, but when the frost And snow-
The bitte- winds of Winter very quickly laid her low-
She died in my embraces, with a spirit calm and brave;
And now the weeping willow bends silently o'er her grave;
I often go to see her grave, and keep the verdure green,
And plant some spotless lillies upon the peaceful scene,
And feel the satisfaction of knowing, though she's dead,
I tried to do my duty to the words my father said:
Stick to your mother, Tom, &c

Civilities of the street, car: " Will you pull the bell?" she
asked of a man across the aisle as the car reached the corner.
"No. madam," he answered, with a bow: " but I will be most
happy to pull the strap which rings the bell." " Ah! but never
mind! The strap is connected with two bells, and you might
stop the wrong end of the car." And the look she turned upon
him was full of triumph, veneered with cayenne pepper.
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