I came across this poem months ago and saved it...thought I would share.
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
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4 comments:
I love that poem! It sounds like something you wrote!
Love it! I always like to have time to jump on the trampoline, play a game of army, or see who loses the tickle game!
I love it, too. But really I just posted it so that I would feel better about my house, because right now I am the mother whose house is so shocking...and I have no motivation to do anything about it!
Kathy, hi! Nice to see you here :) I didn't know you blogged!
I live in constant fear of the unannounced guest, because of the fun we like to have. My house is always a mess. There is always laundry everywhere, and I mean everywhere, and papers, they multiply over night. I have no motivation to do anything about mine, so I say why worry about it today, there's always tomorrow, or next week!
I was blogging, I forgot about it! LOL!
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