I hope
that my child looking back on today
remembers
a mother who had time to play
for
children grow up while you are not looking
there
will be years ahead for cleaning and cooking
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 his 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 H. Hamilton
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