Once there was a little girl
who had a head of golden curls,
she played, she learned, she laughed, she cried,
her life was full, her heart was wide;
A happy little girl was she, just like any other,
but from a tot, she said there's not,
a better person than her Mother.
As years went by and thing's got tough,
her Mother couldn't do enough
to love and teach and scold and play,
to shoo her nighttime fears away;
Now the little girl's a woman grown
and has a husband of her own,
still she learns and laughs and cries,
and sometimes is not so very wise;
But when she's sad and things get rough,
her Mother still can't do enough.
Please let me say that I'm the girl
who had the head of golden curls,
the curls are gone, the gold's not real,
but I must tell you how I feel:
The love that's in my heart today,
will be there till my dying day;
This tribute to you, Darling Mom,
will live on when you are gone.
I only hope someday you'll see,
a little girl with curls like me,
who sits upon her Grandma's knee,
and love her just as tenderly.