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MOTHER’S PRIDE

I was born under good signs.
On a sunny day.
A smiling man in my first few years.
Until I could get away.

And every time I meet my people.
They say I did it well.
All overrated stories.
But that’s just something I can’t tell.

What did I do that makes her love me?
Didn’t I ever make her cry?
Mother’s pride is how she calls me.
Until the day she dies.

When she calls me in the morning.
I wake up, get out of my bed.
She asks me what I’ve been doing,
and I tell her; “It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”

When she sees me in the evening.
She says; “Boy don’t stay out late.”
But when she’s gone, out of the spotlight.
I take my bike and start my day.

What did I do that makes her love me?
Didn’t I ever make her cry?
Mother’s pride is how she calls me.
Until the day she dies.

What did I do that makes her love me?
Didn’t I ever make her cry?
Mother’s pride is how she calls me.
Until the day she dies.

About my father she doesn’t say a word.
Although I know I’ve got his mind.
Mother’s pride is how she calls me.
Until the day I die.

Tonny de Rouw
Tonny de Rouw Administrator

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