It's so "English teacher" of me to recommend giving a poem as a gift, but this poem is one I come back to again and again, especially when nursing Georgia in the middle of the night (or when there are so many dishes in the sink, I can't see the spout.)
Song for a Fifth Child
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.
- Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
I've shared this with a lot of moms over the years. All you need to make this a gift is a printer, some paper and a pretty frame. I just wouldn't give it to anyone who might take this as a statement about her housekeeping. The one above is the one I keep in Georgia's nursery. I'm sure you'll be much fancier with matting and stuff than me!
Such a sweet sweet poem. Makes me tear up, actually. Awwww.
ReplyDelete