| Of things I should be thankful for I’ve had a goodly share
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| And as I sit here in the comfort of my cosy chair
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| My fancy takes me to a humble eastside tenement
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| Three flights up in the rear to where my childhood days were spent
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| It wasn’t much like Paradise but 'mid the dirt and all
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| There sat the sweetest angel, one that I fondly call
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| My yiddishe momme I need her more then ever now
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| My yiddishe momme I’d like to kiss that wrinkled brow
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| I long to hold her hands once more as in days gone by
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| And ask her to forgive me for things I did that made her cry
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| How few were her pleasures, she never cared for fashion’s styles
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| Her jewels and treasures she found them in her baby’s smiles
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| Oh I know that I owe what I am today
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| To that dear little lady so old and gray
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| To that wonderful yiddishe momme of mine
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| My yiddishe momme I need her more then ever now
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| My yiddishe momme I’d like to kiss that wrinkled brow
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| I long to hold her hands once more as in days gone by
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| And ask her to forgive me for things I did that made her cry
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| How few were her pleasures, she never cared for fashion’s styles
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| Her jewels and treasures she found them in her baby’s smiles
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| Oh I know that I owe what I am today
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| To that dear little lady so old and gray
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| To that wonderful yiddishe momme of mine |