The seven of us kids will never realize,
The sacrifices she made, that we might survive.
When we stubbed our toe or finger did burn,
In her old rocker, we all had our turn.

The light bread she made, just couldn't be beat,
In an old iron pot, she cooked the meat.
Young fried chicken, and gravy so brown,
Enough hot biscuits to go all around.

She canned from the garden, in the cellar did store,
She always found ways to keep the wolf from the door.
Life was so simple for us, so it seemed,
For our life to be a success, was mother's biggest dream.

Every life that she touched with great concern,
She gave all, ask nothing in return.
We all grew up so fast, and our lives moved on,
We didn't miss mother until she was gone.

Now mother is remembered, almost every day,
By each of her kids, in a special way.
Of all the memories, now we recall,
But the memories of mother, are the greatest of al1.