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Show Media ItemShow Media Item - YOUNG OBSERVER - My Mother

YOUNG OBSERVER - My Mother

Africa » Gambia
Friday, April 04, 2008
*My mother, who sat and watch, my infant head, and tears of sweet affection shed my mother.

*Who tought, my infant lips to pray and work in wisdom pleasant way, my mother

*When pain and sickness, made me cried who geared upon, my heavy eye and wept for fear, that I should died, my mother.

*And can I ever seize to be affectionate and kind to her, who was so very find to me my mother.

*When my mum is feeble old and grey, my health arms shall be thy stay and I will smooth the pains away, my mother.



Life is not a bed of Roses

*This life is not a bed of Roses, but full of

Thorns. As you make your bed, do shall

you lye on it. Whatever you sow that's

what you will harvest.

*Time and tide waits, for no man, make hay

whiles, the sun shines, the sun will only

shine on those who strive hard as to meet ends.

*Ambitions is a bitter tree, but it fields

delicious fruits, a patient dog will

always eat a fat bone.

*He who laughs last, always laughs best

God will never leave those who work

hard to go forever unrewarded.

*The road of I don't care!

always lead to the city of had I known

had I known always comes last.

Opportunity knocks at your door

but only once, and once opportunity

is last, it can never be regained.



Author: by Ida Jallow
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