Grandmother, think not I forget, when I come back to town,
And wander the old ways again and tread them up and down.
I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass, 
Without I think and mind how good you were to a little lass.

I never hear the winter rain a-fallin' all night through
Without I think and mind how cold it falls on you.
And if I come not often to your bed beneath the grass,
Think not that I forget.
Oh you, who held me, who taught me, who loved me, you,
No, you I'll ne'er forget.

Grandmother, give me your clay cold heart that cannot ache,
For mine is fire within my breast and yet it cannot break.
It beats and throbs forever for the things that cannot be.
Oh, can't you come back and rest awhile by me?

A little lass afraid of the dark slept by you years long gone.
Oh, she has found what night can hold 'tween the sunset and dawn.
So when I plant the rose and lilac above your grave for you,
You'll know that I won't forget.
Oh, you who held me, who taught me, who loved me, you,
No, you I'll ne'er forget.