ME MUDDER – (old irish poem)
When I was small and knew it all,
And acted about eight feet tall,
Who made me stand and face da wall?
Who’d wake me from me nice warm cot
And put me on da cold, cold pot.
And make me go, wedder I could or not?
When I trew fits, I’d scream and shout.
I’d throw me down and thrash about.
Who’d give me, “…Something to cry about?”.
But when I’d hurt and start ta cry,
Who dried da tears dat filled me eye,
And made me feel good, bye and bye?
Who shined me edges, made me say please,
She made me say, “scuse me”, when ever I’d sneeze. And teached me manners, as slick as Ya please?
Who waits each Sunday in her home,
And listens for her telephone…
To let her know she’s not alone.?
Who calls me by me brudder’s name,
And Him by mine? (It’s all da same.)
Her memory’s gone… she’s not to blame.
I’m gray me self now, it ain’t so bad,
When I think of all da love I had,
From dat dear liddle lady who married me Dad.
Back in June, two thousand eight,
She turned 100, now ain’t dat great.
Who’ll meet me again by dem pearly gates?