“Quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep”

I love this poem, it really makes me sad in a nice kind of way. It makes me realise just how fast Big A and Little A are growing, but it also reminds me to always have great fun with them and superficial stuff can wait. This  came to mind when I sold their gorgeous Silver Cross pram at the weekend. It seemed like just yesterday that Big A was a teeny tiny bundle in it, ready for his first outing to the big world.

As much as I loved it and actually planned to keep it, It saddened me to know it was hidden in the attic, not likley to see the light of day again. The lady the lady who took it was lovely and fell in love with it at first sight. So I am content in the knowlage it has gone to a home that will look after it and treasure memories created in it as much as we do.

So, it’s with heavy heart I admit that my babies are no longer babies and they are growing up far too quickly.

Song For a Fith Child, by Ruth Hamilton. 1958

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.

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6 Comments

Filed under Sentimental Old Me

6 responses to ““Quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep”

  1. That’s a lovely poem :)

  2. OMG you just made me cry! What a lovely poem. Off to cuddle the baby quickly before she grows up. :-)

  3. I know, I blubbed too just posting it! But it is so lovely and so true. Enjoy your babies while you can – they grow so fast. x

  4. Another one for you, to remind us all to take the time.

    MY HANDS WERE BUSY

    My hands were busy through the day.
    I didn’t have much time to play.
    The little games you asked to do,
    I didn’t have much time for you.
    I’d wash your clothes. I’d sew and cook.
    You’d ask and I’d read from your book.
    I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
    And hear your prayers; turn out the light.

    Then tiptoe softly by your door,
    I wish I’d stayed a minute more.
    For life was short, the years rushed past,
    A little boy grows up so fast.
    No longer is he at my side,
    His precious secrets to confide.
    The picture books are put away.
    There are no longer games to play.

    No Teddy Bears or misplaced toys
    No sleepovers with lots of boys.
    No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear.
    That all belongs to yesteryear.
    My hands, once busy, now are still.
    The days are long and hard to fill.
    I wish I could go back and do
    The little things you asked me to do.

    Anonymous

  5. Debi

    Oh, these poems are really lovely and so true!! Must go and get tissues………

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