Go home to your mothers ,
go home and pick your dainty flowers ,
for the hours are short ,
and your days are long ,
go home this day with your mothers where you belong .

So the children came from the mills ,
who toiled all year to their masters will ,
who now were free ,
just for one day ,
to go home to their mothers ,
come what may .

For the flowers are free ,
in the blustery winds ,
that blow all day ,
and are never still .
Much like the child who to this day ,
Picks the wild flowers along the way .