Tuesday, September 07, 2010


This poem used to hang in my mother's kitchen in an embroidery wall hanging.
It was brought back to my memory today...

"Cleaning and scrubbing
Can wait 'til tomorrow.
For babies grow up,
We've learned, to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby
And babies don't keep!"

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