The day is over
And still so heavy on the mind
In flew glowing, smiling mother, butterfly
In yellow
To the frowning cactus crowd
Finding flowers - even there - to flutter round

I thought, isn't mother grand?
The way she flies and flies
Into the sting of the cold
And the prick of the barbed wire
Isn't mother grand
To gladly fly and swiftly fly
Into the sting of the cold
And the prick of the barbed wire

The day is over
And still goes ing through the mind
In came glowing, smiling mother, sure and kind
To rouse us
To give ourselves out and to cry
Birth to warm intentions, worthless otherwise!

Oh, the lives that brush against us
us by and by
The friends who may or may not come
If we would first invite
Oh to open doors
To always gladly fly and fly
Into the sting of the cold
And the prick of the barbed wire