The Mother of Three

Oh, to have a little farm,
A little hearth so warm and bright,
And three little boys all safe from harm
In from the winter night!

A little house with white-washed wall,
And thatched like any golden rick,
And the little boys within my call,
And they running so quick.

A garden and an apple tree,
And me so busy all the day,
And the little boys at home with me,
Merry out at their play.

There was a woman I've heard tell,
Whose three fine sons were killed. For sure
'Tis good to have them little and well
And just beyond your door.

This while back there is something wrong --
It may be that I miss the boys
Who filled the house the whole day long
With happy laughter and noise!

And often when I sit my lone
The sadness comes and lies on me
For the poor soul that has no son.
And me having the three!

And it's oh, to have the little farm
Under the golden thatch so bright,
And the little boys safe home from harm
Shut in with me at night!