I simply love this poem. I have to read it every once in awhile, and every time it brings tears to my eyes. I need this reminder often. So thanks, Andrea, for pointing me to it a long while ago.
And Katie, I dedicate this one to you; I hope if you have to choose between a spotless house and a shocking house with a hullabaloo in the yard (you know, kinda what you described for me tonight), you'll always make the wise choice!
Song For A Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due.
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peek-a-boo.
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?
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
But 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.
4 comments:
Love that poem. Certainly one to live by.
Thanks for posting that -- I only know the last stanza. The whole thing is even better.
Thank you for posting this! I love it!! Do you mind if I put it on my blog too?
That would be great, Melissa! I wish I knew more of the history. Sometimes I feel like hanging this poem on my door so that when visitors stop by and see that my house is so "shocking", they'll know why.
elisa
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