My Yiddishe Momme - Tom Jones

My Yiddishe Momme, I miss her more than ever now.

My Yiddishe Momme, I’d longed to kiss that wrinkled brow.

I long to hold her hand once more as I did in the days gone by,

And beg her to forgive me for things I did that made her cry.

How few were her pleasures, she never cared for fashion’s styles

Her jewels and her treasures, she found them in her beby’s smiles

And, I know that I owe everything that I am today

To that wonderful lady so old and gray;

To that wonderful Yiddishe Momme of mine.