My Mother's House has all kinds of things,
Things that she loves.
There are paintings and pineapples,
And chairs, and wreaths above.
Her House is full of all kinds of things,
Things that she adores.
Like tablecloths and flower pots,
And shoes and clothes galore.
This House is overflowing
With heavy, sharp, and sad
But still she comes from the store
Carrying more of what we have
Our House is bursting at the seams
With all of Mother’s stuff
We’re trying to accommodate,
But it is getting rather tough
O House! One day, you will be empty
Of warmth and love and family
Replaced by all my Mother’s things
That induced this malady.