Rosemary Jane - Frank Turner

Rosemary Jane is the first out of bed

Every morning the same, but there’s mouths to be fed

With the money she gets from a man who is dead to himself

And dead to everyone else

My sisters and I were always too young

To remember the line about holding your tongue

While the grown folks are talking, but the silence began

Long ago for Rosemary Jane

Sweet Rosemary Jane

It’s Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say

We haven’t forgotten, the remarkable way

That you took all that pain on your shoulders

And put it away, Rosemary Jane

When I think of the things you had to endure

We were young, we were careless, headstrong and unsure

You guided us gently to the right path

Whether loved or ignored, Rosemary Jane

I know I gave you a grey hair every time I messed up

Each one a silver reminder that my mistakes add up

Through every one of my unforced errors, every slip

You never gave up

Sweet Rosemary Jane

It’s Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say

We haven’t forgotten, the remarkable way

That you took all that pain on your shoulders

And put it away, Rosemary Jane

Unsure of the path in No Man’s Land

Unsure of myself in No Man’s Land

Never quite alone in No Man’s Land

It’s Mothering Sunday, and the headlines should say

That we’ll never forget it, the remarkable way

That you took all that pain on your shoulders

And put it away, sweet Rosemary Jane

Sweet Rosemary Jane

Rosemary Jane

Rosemary Jane