There are friends who will want you, but just for a day,
There are pals you think true, but they?ll cast you away.
But there?s one loving soul boy, I'd sure recommend,
Through this whole world of sor-row, she'll be true to the end.
Moth-er, though her hands are all wrin-kled and old,
Moth-er, silver hair that has lost all the gold.
You left her alone, went to roam through the years,
But all that you left her, were heartaches and tears.
So kiss her old brow, whisper softly and true,
Moth-er, you're just an angel, and I, love, you.
(Original Spoken) or Sing.
On the door of a cottage, a wreath sad-ly hung,
And a hearse stood there waiting, as the choir softly sung.
There were flowers in their beauty, and the old parson he prayed,
This was the last tribute, as they left for her grave.
She won't meet you tonight son, when you crave her caress,
She has raised you to manhood and, now you've laid her to rest.
Those flowers in their beauty, ahhh, to her they're unknown.
Cause tonight she's with the angels, up around Gods' great throne.
So don't wait that late son, to try and re-pay,
Give those flowers and give those treasures, and give them today.
Let her know that you love her and, show her that you care.
Cause she's your mother, God love her, she's as true as a prayer.
(Sing)
So kiss her old brow, whisper softly and true;
Moth-er, you're just an angel, and I, love, you.