  If I can compose my way to success Then some time I’ll compose the rest, It will be of my childhood days Building mud houses for different plays. Oh! I was bad and mischievous, too, And always looking for something to do, And when I found nothing I surely was sad, To be good very long would make me mad. Though I longed to go to school, But I was poor and fate overruled, Then my mother, whom I love so dear, Passed away at the end of the year. Then I fought this old, rough world, For I had lost my valued pearl. And now she sleeps beneath the sod; It brought me deep sorrow though it’s the will of God. Just think of my mother, she guides me yet, And keeps me away from those sinful nets. All through life, from place to place, She ne’er let alcohol enter my taste. And I’ve ne’er lived a day I want to live o’er, Unless it was school days which I could love more, Now I’ll thank God and that sweet little her, My life’s been rough, but never a blur. A heart without love And nowhere to build, The mind wanders far, Leaving the soul to chill. |
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