My Mother Would Not Be Proud Of Me

My mother would not be proud of me I'm not what she'd want me to be
My siblings seen as more successful my siblings who live far from me
And none of my siblings write verses and they worship a different god
And I who have often helped others is looked on as one rather odd.

My mother long with the departed she lays in the same grave as dad
She hailed from Rathmore in Sliabh Luachra and an easy life she never had,
She worked hard for to raise her nine children and a long life she was not to know
She went to the reaper in her fifties three years short of four decades ago.

My mother would not be proud of me though that fact now doesn't move me to tears
I have learned to live with failure and I am getting on in years,
I have known the good and the bad days and I've battled the ghosts of despair
And I too have learned that laughter can be a great soother for care.

My few friends they seem to get fewer though some of my old drinking mates I recall
But pub friends are only just pub friends and they are not true mates after all
With them I had little in common and their interests were different to mine
And now I don't see them that often since I've lost my taste for beer and wine.

My mother would not be proud of me though that fact doesn't cause me to lose sleep
Even though she was a good and loving mother and for her passing tears I did weep,
All of my siblings seen as more successful but good luck to them is all I can say
And it's been years since I've last seen them and from me they live far away.