When I was young my mother taught
Out of the only books she bought,
And from her soul, for she was old,
When seen next to a child as I.
I would go outside and play,
After lessons, mum would stay
In her big room and read a bit,
While I would mark the trees that stood
In the garden, the high tall wood
Reached to the air, and leaves
Abounded in those staunch old trees.
My truth was found by river’s edge,
We had a fence, we had no hedge.
My mother dear did not know where,
I had gone to seek the truth.
She persisted to teach me nightly,
And so my younger years passed lightly.