The day she was born, in the hospital room.
Mother leaned over, and whispered a tune.
The song was quite pleasant, a prayer to no one
That her daughter would grow up to shine like the sun.

She said:

"Darling, be a good girl. Darling be kind.
Darling, do no wrong here, and Darling will find
that Darling is a sweet child, Darling is bright.
Darling, do no wrong here. Darling, do right."

So Darling grew quickly, like a rose in the spring,
But roses have thorns, which misfortune will bring.
And Darling was a loud girl, Darling was bold.
So her Mother grew tired, and Mother grew old.

She said:

"Please Darling, be a good girl. Please, Darling be kind.
Darling, do not wrong here, and you Darling will find
That you're bound to be a sweet child, you're supposed to shine bright.
Darling please do no wrong here. Darling, do right."

And the little girl listened, and tried hard as she could
To be sweet, to be gentle, as a little girl should.
But Darling was no angel, Darling was child.
Mother said to be proper, but Darling ran wild.

She said:

"Mother, I'm a bad girl, Mother, not kind.
Mother, I did wrong here, Mother, you'll find
That I'm destined to be a dull child, not shine bright.
Mother, forgive me. I'll try to do right."

And Mother sighed softly, like a cloud in the sky,
And lifted her daughter to sit on her thigh,
And looked at the face of the love of her life,
And silently hoped it would turn out alright.

She said:

"Darling, you're perfect. Darling, you're mine.
Darling, you did no wrong. Darling, it's fine.
Darling, you're a perfect child, Darling, you're right.
Darling, I love you. Darling, I love you."