When my mother died I was very young / And my father sold me while yet my tongue / Could scarcely cry `'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!' / So your chimneys I sweep and in soot I sleep.
A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all.
My mother always called me an ugly weed so I never was aware of anything until I was older. Plain girls should have someone telling them they are beautiful. Sometimes this works miracles.