Mothers Daughters Wives

Words and Music By Judy Small (Click here to view her Homepage)

	The first time it was fathers
             	The last time it was sons
             	And in between your husbands
             	Marched away with drums and guns
             	And you never thought to question
             	You just went on with your lives
             	'Cause all they taught you who to be
             	Was mothers, daughters, wives

You can only just remember the tears your mother shed
As she sat and read the paper through the lists and lists of dead          
And the gold frame held the photograph that mother kissed each night              
And the doorframe held the shocked and silent stranger from the fight

It was twenty-one years later with children of your own
The trumpets sounded once again, the soldier boys were gone
So you made their guns and drove the trucks and tended to their wounds                
And at night you kissed their photographs and hoped for safe returns                  
And after it was over you had to learn again
To be just wives and mothers when you'd done the work of men
So you worked to help the needy and you never trod on toes
The photos on the mantelpiece struck a happy family pose                             

Then your daughters grew to women and your little boys to men
And you prayed that you were dreaming when the call-up came again
But you bravely smiled and held your tears as they proudly waved goodbye        
The photos on the mantelpiece, they always made you cry
And now you're getting older, and in time the photos fade
And in widowhood you sit back and reflect on the parade
Of the passing of your memories, how your daughters changed their lives
Seeing more to their existences than mothers, daughters, wives


 

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27th May 2000