I've heard this poem before, but I don't remember most of it. The last two lines have always stuck in my head. I have said them over and over to myself since Isabella was born.
"I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep." Tears me up even now.
Enjoy!
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, 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 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.
- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
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