She smiles at me from the front row
Listening with rapt attention to each of my words
Beaming with a mother's pride
Even though she did not conceive me
It is He—and He in she—that I long to please
With my life and the words I speak
To make her laugh is dandy and fine
But to make her think? Now that's divine!
It hasn't all been warm and fuzzy
This lady, she pulls no punches
But she's guided me, trained me, raised me
Helped me become the man I am
She's had her turn—many more than I
—at the front, speaking words Supplied
I am blessed to know her, to be known by her
Mother mine, would you smile for me, just one more time?
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