Mama’s Mama


 Neomia Banks State Farm

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By | May 1, 2008

Mama’s MamaMama’s Mama, on a cold winter day,Milked the cows and fed them hay;Slopped the hogs, saddled the mule,And got her seven children off to school…Did a washing, scrubbed the floors,Washed the windows and did the chores.Cooked a dish of home-dried fruit,Pressed her husband’s Sunday suit,Swept the parlor and made the bed,Baked a dozen loaves of bread,Split some firewood, lugged it in…Enough to fill the kitchen bin.Cleaned the lamps and put in oil,Stewed some apples she thought might spoil;Churned the butter, baked a cake,Looked out and said, “For mercy’s sake!The calves are out of their pen!”…Went out and put them in again.Gathered the eggs, and locked the stable;Returned to the house and set the table,Cooked a supper that was delicious,Afterward — washed all the dishes.Fed the cat, sprinkled the clothes,Mended a basket full of hose,Then opened the organ and began to play,”When you come to the end of the perfect day.” Anonymous Mother’s Day Poetry