If she were with me, I soon would forget
My pain and my sorrow; no more would I fret;
One kiss from her lips, or one look from her eye,
Would make me contented, and willing to die!
Gently her hand o’er my forehead she’d press,
Trying to free me from pain and distress;
Kindly she’d say to me, “Be of good cheer;
Mother will comfort you, mother is here!”
Chorus.—Gently her hand, &c.
Cheerfully, faithfully, mother would stay,