Oh, Mother Dear, I must away,
Although I know it's your birthday
And I mixed cards amid the fray,
Sent the wrong one to you.
I know I'm sometimes a poor son,
Leave off things that I've begun
And leave the tasks only half-done,
Foisting some upon you.
I'm trying, though. I really am,
Though saying it, I sound a ham.
Still, I'm doing what I can;
I hope it matters to you.
And I am glad today years gone
You opted to join along
And add your voice to this world's song,
So, happy birthday to you!
No comments:
Post a Comment