Geneva Ryals Stuart

An Old Fashion Mother

Down in a lonesome valley,
Lived the best friend I'll ever know.
It was my dear old Mother,
That's where I have longed to go.

At once I thought I was not satisfied,
I desided i'de take the road to roam.
But now when I think of Mother,
I realized the best place for me was home.

I thought She was old fashion and silly,
She would not be like no one in style.
Until I had roamed of and left her,
and had traveled a million of miles.

She pleaded for me to stay with her,
As I was compeled to go away.
The tears fell from her eyes as she kissed me,
And said Son, you'll be sorry someday.

I desided I would write to Mother,
One night as I lay on a rented bed.
Then a thought came to me of shame,
And I bowed my aching head.

"God, if you will for-give me,
I'll journey on my way back to Mother dear.
I wonder if she still loves me,
I wonder if she will still care."

Then I wondered oe'r the city,
And told my friends good by.
I told them I was on my way back home,
To live faithful to Mother till I die.

As I reached home, and entered the gate,
I discovered something was wrong.
The place had grown up with weeds,
And my dear Mother was gone.

The old house was vakent,
No one could be heard or seen.
I raised my head toward heaven,
And said "Oh! God", it seems just like a dream.

I walked down the old rockey road,
To the closest neighbor I knew.
I inguared, and they said your Mother is dead,
She is dead, She died for you.

Many a time I had thought I was brokenhearted,
And at times I had though I was blue.
But never before had I parted,
From the best friend I ever knew.