Thursday, February 11, 2010

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

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.

* * *

This is the kind of mother I expect to be. Housework has never been a hobby of mine, except for cooking. Taking care of children, on the other hand, is something I love. I'll have a clean house when I'm old -- maybe!

You haven't forgotten the poetry contest, have you? I'm still waiting for more entries (including my entry!) before I close it.