Ivvery year we buy her flowers un she sez,'ya shunt they cost so much,
then she trundles off to't kitchen weer shiz vases all lined up.
mind you am only kiddin, mams are a species in their own.
un we couldn't manage bart 'em, not since day wi born.
who else udd wesh ya mucky bums,being a mams a thankless job,
who tries to teach ya reight frum wrong, so's ya dunt grow up a slob.
who nurses ya through measles ,brocken arms un chicken pox,
then chases ya rarnd kitchen cos yuv oil in ya new socks.
she's a profitless money lender, un her cooking carnt be beat,
thuz nobody cun touch her apple pies,un her sponge cakes a perfect treat.
who is it's theer to help ya gerrova't pangs a puppy love,
un sez'he wouldn't do for thee, he just in't good enough.
she sheds a tear to see ya in ya long white wedding gear,
remebering back to't good owd days, when her un dad stood theer.
are many on us tells her that we love her, is there wun,
tell her this next muthers day,cos it's too late wunce she's gone.
am a muther missen wi four great kids,nar booits on't other foot,
un cum sunday ass bi waiting theer,wi mi vases all lined up.
