Mother’s not dead, she’s only asleepin’.
Just patiently waiting, for Jesus to come.
The birds will be singing, while Mother lies sleepin’.
They will sing o’er as the grave sinks away.
I left my old home, way back in the mountains.
Poor mother and father, had both passed away.
We followed our mother, up to the graveyard.
For mother was called, to heaven that day.
Oh, how we miss her, around the old home place.
Everything seems so lonesome, since she went away.
Mother is sleepin’, way back the mountains.
Mother is sleepin’, way back in the hills.