Of things I should be thankful for
I've had a goodly share
And as I sit here in the comfort
Of a cosy chair
My fancy takes me to a humble eastside tenement
Three flights up in the rear
To where my childhood days were spent

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

My Yiddishe mamma,
I need her more than ever now
My Yiddishe mamma,
I long to kiss that wrinkled brow

I long to hold her hand once more, as in days gone by
And ask her, ask her
To forgive me for things I did that made her cry

How few were her pleasures
She didn't care for fashion styles
Her jewels and her treasures
She found them in her babies smiles

Yet I know that I owe
What I am today
To that dear little lady
So old, and so grey

To that wonderful Yiddishe mamma
Mamma, Mamma...