I love it, I love it! and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm chair. I've treasured it long as a holy prize. I've bedew'd it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs; 'Tis bound by a thousand bonds to my heart: Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell a mother sat there, And a sacred thing is that old arm chair. I sat and watch'd her many a day, When her eye grew dim, and her locks were grey; And I worshipp'd her when she smil'd And turn'd from her bible to bless her child. Years rolled on, but the last one sped, My idol was shattered, my earth star fled; I learnt how much the heart can bear, When I saw her die in that old arm chair. 'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now With a quivering breath and throbbing brow; 'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she died; And mem'ry flows with lava tide. Say it is folly, and deem me weak, While the scalding drops start down my cheek; But I love it, I love it and cannot tear My soul from a mother's old arm chair.

| Deutsche Volkslieder | Ahnenforschung | Ferienaufenthalt | Folksongs | Hymns | Genealogy | Pacific Holiday | HOME PAGE | SEARCH | Email |