My mother's work didn't end with the night
Knitting gloves that she would give to me.
When the winter winds would blow she would cook for us a stew
Oh how bitter was the cold back then.
News has now come here from the people back at home
And with it smells of cooking at the hearth.
My mother's work making linen from flax
Day and night she never shirked her work.
My father sat at her side beating hard against the straw
Do your best he'd always say to me.
Winter in my hometown was always so lonely
A radio was their best friend.
My mother worked her hands rough, red and raw
Taking care of us day and night.
The last snow will melt and it soon will be spring
Yes, the fields are waiting for their seed.
Oh, the babbling of the brook, listen and you'll hear
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones,
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones.
Kaasan No Uta English Version Video (MV)
Takeo Ischi - Kaasan No Uta English Version Lyrics
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My mother's work didn't end with the night
Knitting gloves that she would give to me.
When the winter winds would blow she would cook for us a stew
Oh how bitter was the cold back then.
News has now come here from the people back at home
And with it smells of cooking at the hearth.
My mother's work making linen from flax
Day and night she never shirked her work.
My father sat at her side beating hard against the straw
Do your best he'd always say to me.
Winter in my hometown was always so lonely
A radio was their best friend.
My mother worked her hands rough, red and raw
Taking care of us day and night.
The last snow will melt and it soon will be spring
Yes, the fields are waiting for their seed.
Oh, the babbling of the brook, listen and you'll hear
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones,
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones.
Knitting gloves that she would give to me.
When the winter winds would blow she would cook for us a stew
Oh how bitter was the cold back then.
News has now come here from the people back at home
And with it smells of cooking at the hearth.
My mother's work making linen from flax
Day and night she never shirked her work.
My father sat at her side beating hard against the straw
Do your best he'd always say to me.
Winter in my hometown was always so lonely
A radio was their best friend.
My mother worked her hands rough, red and raw
Taking care of us day and night.
The last snow will melt and it soon will be spring
Yes, the fields are waiting for their seed.
Oh, the babbling of the brook, listen and you'll hear
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones,
Nostalgia has soaked me to the bones.