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
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
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?
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
3 comments:
Have always loved this poem! Can't believe that cute girl is already eight months old.
Your precious baby. You are a lovely mother. xox
Love those sayings! Here is another one to add....
I hope that my children look back on today
And see a mom who had time to play
There will be years for cleaning and cooking
For children grow up while we're not looking
Isn't it so true?! If we dont deny oursekves for our little (and not so little) ones, we will have regret later!
Love this little face ♥
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