Clean clothes drying on the line
Moved by a gentle summer breeze
Mostly the jeans here are mine
These precious memories in times of ease

Carrying two five gallon pails
Full of water up a hill
To drink and clean away what ails
We never ever took a pill

Arm wrestling with her I could not win
Neither could my most macho friend
Her strength was astounding from one so thin
Her resolve was there to the bitter end

Though rough and strong she had a gentle touch
She could heal a wounded child with ease
She never took but gave so much
A heart of gold a desire to please

Every meal every day was made with love
Every word she spoke was kind
She called us in each day with the voice of a dove
Come home, come home its suppertime

I’ll never hear that call on earth again
But dad’s been waiting up there so long
For mama to join him and ease her pain
And he’ll call for her with that old old song

Come home, come home, its suppertime
God called her home she finished the race
He rewarded her kindness so sublime
Now she rests with Dad and in God’s grace

So now I’ll wait to hear the call
Come home, come home, son, its suppertime
Until then I’ll love my wife and children all
And cherish the memories and await the chime


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