Of things I should be thankful for
I've had a goodly share; 
And as I sit here in [bad word]  
Of my cozy chair; 
My fancy takes me to a humble, 
East-side tenement; 
Three flights up in the rear to where
my childhood days were spent. 

It wasn't much like paradise
But mid the dirt and all; 
There sat the sweetest angel
One that I fondly call 

My Yiddishe mama
I need her more than ever now 
My Yiddishe mama
I'd like to kiss that wrinkled brow

I long to hold her hands once more
As in days gone by
And ask her to forgive me
For things i did to make her cry;

How few were her pleasures!
She never cared for fashion styles;
Her jewels and treasures
She found them in her babies' smiles;

Oh I know what I owe what I am
To that dear little lady
So old and grey,
To that Yiddishe mama