Luther and Benson pictured here each a couple of days old

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.

3 comments:
Hi Carmen! Thanks for coming by my blog the other day. The chicken recipe looks delish, I will have to try it! I heart your "priorities" poem, too. Now if I could just follow that advice....
Laura
Hi Carmen,
I have this poem on a needlepoint that I have never finished...sound familiar?
Guess I was too busy rocking babies and now I have another generation of babies to rock!!
Love Mom
I have the last part of this phrase on a needlepoint on Miriam's wall (my friend did it for me) and Miriam loves to hear it every night. She calls it "baby creep" instead of Babies Don't Keep.
Tammee
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