'Twas the day after New Year's in Nineteen Eleven 
Came the birth of a young girl..truly from Heaven. 
She was one of many on Midwestern farm, 
One of beauty and wit with an innocent charm. 
She was smart and ambitious; she worked hard for a living, 
Yet even through tough times, she never stopped giving. 
Soon a young man, most dashing, stepped into her life, 
He was clever and handsome and he made her his wife. 
Wasting no time at all, they had six of their own, 
Then God called "Red" to Heaven and left Gert alone. 
With mouths to be fed and backs needing clothes, 
She held us together through the highs and the lows. 
Sharing strong family values, different roads we all traveled, 
But the common thread Mom wove has never unraveled. 
After Mama and Daddy were six that made eight 
Came children, more children, both grand and now great. 
Her unending faith and the power of prayer 
Made us ever so mindful that the Good Lord was there 
To empower our lives and to be at our side, 
And in His great love, we would always abide. 
She taught others' children 'bout the old golden rule 
She cleaned and she mended, and she put us through school. 
She taught us to love, and she taught us to care, 
Saying "first think of others, and remember to share. 
Be thankful and honest, be humble and true 
For the way you treat others will come back to you." 
Then her kids were all raised, no more wind, nor more whirl, 
And then out of the blue came a man they called "Mearl." 
He was a fine gent, although different from Dad, 
She again said "I do" - a new family she had. 
Once again she was wife, once again she was mother; 
Her new family agreed, that she was like no other. 
Mom...Much good you have done and examples you've set. 
It is very apparent that your goals you have met. 
So when the "Man" calls you with His music and band, 
You'll be more than ready - with your pen in your hand. 
We not toast to you, Mother, as our hearts swell with pride. 
You're our rock of Gibraltar and our strong steady guide. 
Hail Mother and Grandma, Hail Gertrude, Our Queen. 
You've live ninety years, yet you think your sixteen! 
We now honor your presence, there's a glow in the air, 
It must be the good Lord touching your hair!