Oh, mothers, so weary, discouraged,
Worn out with the cares of the day,
You often grow cross and impatient,
Complain of the noise and the play.
For the day brings many vexations,
So many things go amiss.
But, mothers, whatever may vex you,
Send the children to bed with a kiss
The dear little feet often wander,
Perhaps from the pathways of right.
The dear
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