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The cleaning and scrubbing will wait. This stunning poem states our case very nicely The cleaning and scrubbing CAN wait! SONG FOR A FIFTH CHILD by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton, 1958
The Cleaning and Scrubbing Will Wait...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.
(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?
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.
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