The bravest battle that ever was fought; Shall I tell you where and when? On the maps of the world you will find it not; It was fought by the mothers of men.
Sure I love the dear silver that shines in your hair, And the brow that's all furrowed, and wrinkled with care. I kiss the dear fingers, so toil-worn for me, Oh, God bless you and keep you, Mother Machree.