Rosemary Jane

Rosemary Jane is the first out of bed Every morning the same, but there's mouths to be fed With the money she gets from a man who is dead to himself And dead to everyone else My sisters and I were always too young To remember the line about holding your tongue While the grown folks are talking, but the silence began Long ago for Rosemary Jane Sweet Rosemary Jane It's Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say That we haven't forgotten, the remarkable way That you took all that pain on your shoulders, and put it away Rosemary Jane When I think of the things you had to endure We were young, we were careless, headstrong and unsure You guided us gently to the right path, whether loved or ignored Rosemary Jane I know I gave you a grey hair every time I messed up Each one a silver reminder that my mistakes add up Through every one of my unforced errors, every slip You never gave up Sweet Rosemary Jane It's Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say That we haven't forgotten, the remarkable way That you took all that pain on your shoulders, and put it away Rosemary Jane Sweet Rosemary Jane Unsure of the path in no man's land Unsure of myself in no man's land Never quite alone in no man's land It's Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say That we'll never forget it, the remarkable way That you took all that pain on your shoulders, and put it away Sweet Rosemary Jane Sweet Rosemary Jane Rosemary Jane Rosemary Jane