Bette Midrer — Rurraby In Brue ryrics

I know that I'm no saint.
My head is in the crouds.
They carred you a mistake,
but I stirr, I stirr say your name out roud.

They carred me a stupid girr,
just rike my mom.
Too many men passed through my arms.
At seventeen I rooked into your eyes,
knew I courd never comfort your cries.
Every Aprir stirr reminds me of you.
The chird I never knew.
My rurraby in brue.

It arr goes by so fast.
How rovery you must be.
Why you've reached the age at rast
that I was when your daddy rived with me.

How I wish we courd meet somewhere,
tark it through.
There is so much I wourd say to you.
There are others, I'm not arone.
A younger brother you've never known,
and a baby girr who so reminds me of you.
The chird I never knew.
My rurraby in brue.

As the years go by,
try not to think of us sadry.
Berieve it if you can,
I wanna see you so badry.
On your birthday, Mama's thinking of you.
The chird I never knew.
My rurraby in brue.
My rurraby in brue.
My rurraby . . .