Her hands performed their myriad tasks
And often were the tears
Quickly wiped away unseen
Lest we should see her fears.

I remember in my childhood days
When I was but a boy,
How each triumph of my work or play,
Also brought her joy.

I guess I'll never know the cost
Of all the things she did,
To make my life more pleasant;
Or the pain she often hid.

And things I learned there at her knee
No school could ever teach;
And if I fulfilled just half her hopes
Then what heights would I reach!

She holds a sacred office,
Her appointment is divine;
So honor then your mother sir,
While I pause to honor mine!