O well do I remember, though many years ago,
I journeyed down to Plymouth with my mother, you must know.
The ships were in the harbor with flags and banners dressed,
And weeping wives and children were waiting with the rest.
My father was a sailor on board a Man O' War,
Who once again was going to leave us by the shore.
He kissed our lips at parting, while standing on the key,
And as he bade us both goodbye, these words he said to me:
Stick to your mother, Tom, when I am gone.
Don't let her worry, lad, don't let her mourn.
Remember that she nursed you when I was far away;
Don't leave your mother when her hair turns grey.
Our hearts were dull and heavy, returning home again.
We scarcely spoke a whisper, while riding on the train.
The journey seemed unending, and leaden was the sky
Until we reached the station where home was very nigh
The cottage looked so desolate, and vacant was the chair
In which my father lingered whenever he was near
I came and stood by Mother, so full of hope and fear
She fondled and caressed me, and she whispered through her tears
Stick to your mother, Tom, when I am gone.
Don't let her worry, lad, don't let her mourn.
Remember that she nursed you when I was far away;
Don't leave your mother when her hair turns grey.
