Mother Machree |
There's a spot in my heart which no colleen may own. There's a depth in my soul never sounded or known. There's a place in my memory, my life, that you fill. No other can take it, no one ever will. Chorus: Sure, I love the dear silver that shines in your hair, And the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care. I kiss the dear fingers so toilworn for me. Oh, God bless you and keep you, Mother Machree.
Every sorrow or care in the dear days gone by |