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My mother she's so good to me, Ef I was good as I could be, I couldn't be as good—no, sir!— Can't any boy be good as her! She loves me when I'm glad er sad; She loves me when I'm good er bad; An', what's a funniest thing, she says She loves me when she punishes. I don't like her to punish me.— That don't hurt,—but it hurts to see Her cryin'.—Nen I cry; an' nen We both cry an' be good again. She loves me when she cuts and sews My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes; An' when my Pa comes home to tea, She loves him 'most as much as me. She laughs an' tells him all I said, An' grabs me up and pats my head; And I hug her, and hug my Pa An' love him purt' nigh as much as Ma. |