Just saw this poem from 1958 (written by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton and first published in Ladies Home Journal) on someone else's blog. I've never been much for housework, but now that Kate's here, cleaning has fallen to an all-time low on my to-do list (not including laundry, which is somehow getting done more frequently than ever). Once maternity leave is over, I'll be back to working full time, and am not about to waste precious moments with my angel by dusting off knicknacks.
Song for a Fifth Child
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye 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 his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But 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.
1 comment:
I think my mom had this posted in our nursery. I remember that closing line about "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep" from my childhood somewhere...
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