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...THE HEART OF THE BRUCE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE MASK OF ANARCHY; WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF MASSACRE AT MANCHESTER by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY BURNING STRAWPILES by EVA K. ANGLESBURG CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CULLODEN by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN BALLAD OF THE SABRE CROSS AND 7 by IRVING BACHELLER |