And as I sit here in the comfort of my cozy chair
My fancy takes me to a humble eastside tenement
Three flights up in the rear to where my childhood days were spent
It wasn't much like Paradise but 'mid the dirt and all
There sat the sweetest angel, one that I fondly call...
My yiddishe momme I need her more then ever now
My yiddishe momme I'd like to kiss that wrinkled brow
I long to hold her hands once more as in days gone by
And ask her to forgive me for things I did that made her cry
How few were her pleasures, she never cared for fashion's styles
Her jewels and treasures she found them in her baby's smiles
Oh I know that I owe what I am today
To that dear little lady so old and gray
To that wonderful yiddishe momme of mine.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2019/6/5 - 22:21
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