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Each year on Mother's day |
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The rose I wore was red |
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But today I'm saying my first prayer |
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Mama's lying on her dying bed. |
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I've just told Mama goodbye |
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Mother's day has turned to night |
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Like the flowers in May, she withered away |
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And my red rose is turning white. |
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This is the dreaded hour |
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We all must face someday |
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Yet there's consolation in my heart |
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She will bloom in the Master's bouquet. |
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Her time has come to go |
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And there's nothing I can do |
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Only hold her hand and say goodbye |
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Mama's day with her children is through. |
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I've just told Mama goodbye |
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And knelt beside her bed |
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I heard her say, "I'll meet you someday, |
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Where the white roses turn to red." |
