MAMA

On August the eighteenth, nineteen ten,
A baby was born, a new life began.
A pretty little baby girl,
With soft brown baby curls.

She had three sisters and one big brother,
But soon there would be seven others.
She lived in Virginia, where the weather was colder,
But Florida was her goal, when she got older.

She married my daddy, in nineteen thirty one,
Now her carefree, single life was gone.
She had four little girls, in the next ten years,
That brought her joy, laughter, heartache and tears.

Daddy didn’t love her and treat her just right.
He drank everyday and stayed out all night.
We moved to “Brentwood” the projects for the poor.
Then daddy left to come home no more.

We didn’t always have food everyday,
But Mama worked hard to make a way.
She cooked for others and washed their dishes,
Washed their clothes and mended their britches.

She babysat and ironed all day,
Whatever she could to get some pay.
Daddy didn’t give her any money,
But sometimes he brought some syrup or honey.

Mama made “hoe cakes” out of water and flour,
And we ate them with joy, whatever the hour.
Life was hard for this Mother of four,
But she did her best and even more.

She met Jesus in October of thirty nine,
And she tried to please Him, all the time.
She taught her girls to trust the Lord,
For all our needs and so much more.

She taught us all to pray everyday,
And wait on Him to show the way.
We learned to say the books of the Bible,
From Genesis to Revelation, without a problem.

We memorized so many verses,
That protected us from Satan’s curses.
We sang the good old Gospel songs,
And played “Church” at night, when we were home.

We didn’t realize when we were young,
How mama fought to be brave and strong.
We didn’t know she was lonely and sad.
I would have behaved and not been so bad.

She never had jewelry and diamond rings,
Fur coats, hats or fancy things.
She had an old black dress she called “old 76”,
Shoes with cardboard, to keep out the sticks.

She gave up her dreams and every ambition,
To raise four Christian girls was now her mission.
She never owned a house, not even a car,
But she had something that was better by far.

She had the joy of salvation down deep in her heart,
That helped her to triumph over Satan's fiery darts.
Ninety six years have come and gone,
And her mission in this life is done.

She has a mansion and streets of pure gold,
Where she’ll never be hungry, be sick or grow old.
She’ll have crowns to lay at the Savior’s feet,
And family and friends she wants to greet.

She’ll play the harp with her left hand,
While she sings her favorite “Beulah Land”.
I won’t cry for her anymore,
But I’ll cry for us and this big void.