O, Mammy if you'd met her
She'd take your breath away;
There's peace in her demeanor,
There's joy in her at play.
There's affection in her movements,
She's you in many ways.

Her eyes are lighthouse beacons,
Her skin is sculpted clay;
Her little hands seize my heart
With vice-like claws of love;
Oh, Mammy
Do watch over her
As you watched over us.