MOTHER AND I.
Copyright, 1894. by Widmer-Stigler Music Pub. Co.
Words by Cy Warman. Music by Joe Newman.
I laugh when I list to the stories they tell
Of how I was born, one day;
And tied in a towel, to kick and to yell,
Just to show them how much I could weigh;
And when they had finished and I'd ceased to cry,
And was placidly chewing my thumb,
We pressed the same pillow, mother and I,
And softly she started to hum:
Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top,
When the winds blow, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.
Sometimes, when I think of the days that are dead
And the joys of my youthful years-
Years that have rippled and gleamed and sped
With the tide down the ocean of tears,
I remember, at eve. when the day would die
And the twilight's shadow had come,
How we sat together, mother and I,
And softly I started to hum:
Dear little mother, how I love you;
My little mother, so loving and true.
Dear little mother, you're my sweetheart;
And, little mother, from you I'll ne'er part.
When together we sat in the shadows again,
In a fainter and feebler breath,
Was wafted a song from over the fen,
From the valley and shadow of death;
'Twas echo, that came from the sweet bye and bye;
And the voices were whispering, "Come"
We caught up the Chorus, mother and I,
And softly we started to hum;
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee;
E'en though a cross it be that raiseth me.