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.
"Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
3 comments:
I needed that!! Thank you!! I love it!
My mom used to have that poem cross-stitched and hanging in our house growing up. Thanks for the sweet reminder. I am learning all to well that "babies don't keep".
I love that poem! I love your lullaby too, I used to sing that to my babies every night before they went to bed
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