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.


by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Comments

Life Happens said…
Cute poem! Even cuter baby!!
Gracie Rae said…
I love it! So true, isn't it??!! I hope you are loving every minute with your sweet little one.
Susan said…
Love this poem! Bristol is so precious. The newborn stage goes by too quickly. Enjoy your girls!
Cindy Bailey said…
I love that poem and it's so true. Enjoy Bristol every minute you can...they grow up so, so fast!

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