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 BRACELET: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK TO JOHN DONNE (2) by BEN JONSON PROUD MAISIE, FR. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN by WALTER SCOTT THE LONG AGO by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TAYLOR BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE [DECEMBER 2, 1859] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER AT ELLIS ISLAND by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS CONSTANTINOPLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD PSALMS 71. PRAYER AND SONG OF THE AGED CHRISTIAN by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |