When day is done and the night slips down,
and I've turned my back on the busy town,
and come once more to the welcome gate
where the roses nod and the children wait.
I tell myself as I see them smile
that life is good and its tasks worth while.
When day is done and I've come once more
to my quiet street and the friendly door,
where the mother reigns and the children play
and the kettle sings in the old-time way,
I throw my coat on a near by chair
and say farewell to my pack of cares.
When day is done all the hurt and strife
and the selfishness and the greed of life
are left behind in the busy town,
I've ceased to worry about renown
or gold or fame and I'm just a mom
content to b with her girl and her hum.
