Rocking my baby

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
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.

Hatchling no5 is feeling feverish, and just generally blah.


All I want to do is slow right down, and rock him.


Hatchling no 1 and 2 went out the door to girl guides. I was going to take them, and then three of their girl guide buddies knocked at the door. They were walking up and wanted the girls to join them. Now, the community centre is just at the top end of our field, and I can watch them most of the way, but it was still hard to say, gulp, 'Have a great time.'


Not for them. They barely said, 'Bye'. 
All so big, they go off and I feel a little lost with out them.
I am also proud, we have made it this far.


They came back, hands full of pots with planted seeds, and lips telling all their newly acquired stories.

Now, I must go back to rocking my baby, because babies don't keep.