WHILE mother is tending baby We'll help her all we can; For I'm her little toddlekins, And you're her little man. And Nell will bring the basket, For she's the biggest daughter, And I'll keep rubbing, rubbing, And you'll pour in the water. And now we'll have to hurry, Because it's getting late; Poor dolly isn't dressed yet, But dolly'll have to wait. I'll pour, and you can rub 'em, Whichever you had rather; But seems to me, if I keep on, We'll get a quicker lather. Maybe when mother sees us Taking so much troubles, She'll let us put our pipes in And blow it full of bubbles. But now we'll have to hurry, Because it's getting late; And dolly isn't dressed yet, But dolly'll have to wait. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CREDO by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MARJORIE'S WOOING by EMMA LAZARUS TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH LITTLE BROTHER'S STORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |