’Cause I got faint, and but for him, I’d fallen on the floor.
They say he swore some awful words,—I don’t know,—it may be;
But swear or not, I know my boy’s been very, very good to me.
An’ he’s bought the old home back again, an’ I’ve come here to stay,
Never to move till the last move,—the final goin’ away.
An’ I take a heap of comfort, for Georgie’s good an’ kind,
An’ the thought of bein’ a pauper ain’t wearin’ on my mind;
But still I never can forget until my dyin’ day,
That they put me in the poorhouse ’cause I was in the way.