[from]
In the Twilight
Collection,
of
Vocal & Instrumental Music.
No. 17 [of 17]
"Don't Leave Your Mother 
When Her Hair Turns Gray" (circa 1858)
Words by Charles Osborne.
[alias? for John Rogers Thomas, 1830-1895] 
Music by Ernest J. Symons.  

New York?:] M. D. Swisher Publisher
Form of Composition: strophic with chorus  
Instrumentation: voice and piano 
First Line: How well can I remember though many years ago 
First Line of Chorus: Stick to your Mother, Tom, when I am gone 
Subjects: Women; Clothing & dress; Parties Duplicate 
[Source: 100/063@Levy]

1. How well can I remember though many years ago, 
I journey’d down to Plymouth with Mother you must know, 
The Ships were in the Harbour with flags and banners dress’d, 
And weep ing wives and children were waiting with the rest. 
My Father was a Sailor on board a “ManofWay,” 
Who once again was going to leave us both ashore, 
He kiss’d us both at parting as we stood on the Quay. 
And as he bade us both “goodbye” he said these words to me.

CHORUS [sung after each verse]
Stick to your Mother, Tom, when I am gone, 
Don’t let her worry lad, don’t let her mourn, 
Remember that she nurs’d you, when I was far away. 
So don’t leave your Mother when her hair turns grey.

2. We watched the fading vessel then came back home again, 
And scarcely spoke a whisper whist riding in the train, 
The journey seem’d unending and leaden was the sky, 
Until we reached the Station  to which our home was sigh. 
The cottage seemed so desolate for vacant was the chair, 
In which my Father linger’d when ever he was there. 
I came and stood by Mother so torn by hopes and fears, 
In silence she embraced me then whispered thro’ her tears.

3. The time rolled slowly onward, great changes had occurred, 
About the good ship “Victor” for months we had not heard, 
My Mother grew so anxious her cheeks looked sad and pale, 
And I was gatting fearful that she suddenly might fail. 
One day we had a Telaegram say the ship was lost, 
She’d foundered many miles away where she’d been tempest tow’d. 
My poor old Mother fainted, but when the swoon had fled, 
I kiss’d her as I told her the words my Father said.

4. She lingered through the summer, but with the frost and snow, 
The bitter winds of winter too surely laid her low, 
She died in my embraces with spirit calm and brave, 
And now the “Weeping Willow”  droops sadly o’er her grave. 
I often go to see it, to keep the  verdure green, 
And plant some spotless lillies uppon the peaceful scene, 
And feet the satisfaction of knowing though she’s dead, 
I tried to do my duty to the words my Father said.