The poem
Of twin daughters I'm the mother - Lord! how I was proud of them; Each the image of the other, Like two lilies on one stem; But while May, my first-born daughter, Was angelic from the first, Different as wine and water, Maude, my second, seemed accurst.
I'm a tender-hearted dame, Military is my bent; Thus my pretty dears can claim For their Pa the Regiment. As they say: to err is human; But though lots of love I've had, I'm an ordinary women, Just as good as I am bad.
Good and bad should find their level, So I often wonder why May was angel, Maude was devil, Yet between the two was I. May, they say, has taken vows - Sister Mary, pure and sweet; Maudie's in a bawdy house, Down in Mariposa Street.
It's not natural I'm thinking, One should pray, the other curse; I'm so worried I am drinking, Which is making matters worse. Yet my daughters love each other, And I love them equal well; Saint and sinner call me mother . . . Ain't heredity just hell?