I sang  Oh, little town of Bethlehem

Mother, it is great to be up North
Can we take a trip to see High Force?
I don’t think we can manage that,I said
Why ever  not,I need to leave my bed
Well,I can’t drive for I can’t see so well
He looked at me with pity, it was hell
Shall we take a cab, he questioned me
I don’t think  they can get there before tea
We can take a flask and  your  fruit cake
I knew his mother well, and  could she bake!
I did not like to say it is too far
Two hundred miles or more from  where we were
He asked again about my honeymoon
Did you find it over all too soon?
I felt a blush spread over  my  fair skin
He was my husband, I spent it with him
But yet I could not take away his joy
He loved his mother  much when a small boy.
Judging by the smile on his dear face
Freud was right, he wished to me embrace.
Is it wrong to let  a man   mistake
His wife for his late mother, that is fake.
But since he was so sick and suffered long
I had to keep him going with her songs
She sung in her church choir the hymns of praise
To overcome that  strange weekend malaise
So valiant as ever in my work
I sang O Praise the Lord as in  the Kirk
I sang  Oh, little town of Bethlehem
Of course there was no wall there way back when
He still read the paper every day
And in the night when sleepless he would pray.
I would have  lifted rocks and cut through steel
If I could have made his old heart heal
Yet still our  masquerade was to him real
He held my hand and smiled with great appeal.
Then he said he’d like to go to bed
With his own mother, what could I have said?
I made some tea and  he smiled even more
I guess that’s why he lived to ninety four.