What's that? oh, nonsense, I know, Jim Pool,
My mother won't ever "grow old."
What's that? False hair and teeth for her?
Go home, Jim Pool, I won't play
With a boy who says my mother dear
Will ever be "ugly and gray."
But never mind, Jim, you ain't to blame,
You've no sister or mother, you see;
If mine grows ugly, and wrinkled, and lame,
She will still be mother to me.