The Portrait of My Mother in Old Ireland Far Away.
Copyright, 1890, by Frank Harding.
Words by Frank Archer. Music by Tom Richards.
It was on St. Patrick's day, when a young boy blithe and gay,
I left old Ireland o'er the seas in roam;
My mother she was poor, with misfortune at her door,
Which compelled me to leave my good old home.
She left me on the quay, and her portrait gave to me,
I kissed it and I gently dropped a tear;
With sad heart I left the place with my dear old mother's face,
The portrait that my mother gave to me.
For it hangs in the corner of an old-fashioned cot,
And may the shamrocks round it ne'er decay;
Though she's many miles from here, in my heart her face is dear.
The portrait of my mother in old Ireland far away.
In a neat, old-fashioned cot a place I quickly got,
As stable boy, tho' scarcely yet sixteen;
My duties they were light, yet I toiled from morn till night
To make a home for my old mother dear.
My master he was kind, And in sympathy he said,
You'll find a friend in me whate'er befalls;
In that cot I found a place for my dear old mother's face,
And it hangs with the pictures on the wall. -Chorus.
I will soon see her again, and with her I'll remain;
She's growing old and feeble every day;
She will welcome me, I know, for it seemed so long ago,
I left my dear old home so far away.
And her dear face I'll miss when she is dead And gone,
And laid beneath the cold, cold ground to sleep;
With the shamrocks that she gave I will decorate her grave,
Her portrait near my heart I'll always keep.- Chorus.