Mothers and the Census

THAT'S LIFE: A CENSUS POEM

[Published in the July 2007 edition of Royal Statistical Society News,
London]

He said "Your occupation please",
This census-taking guy.
I started to enumerate
And said quite frankly, "I
Wash the dishes, scrub the floors,
Shine the windows, polish doors,
Bathe three children, wipe their noses,
Work a little in the roses.
Do the washing, iron the clothes,
Pick up playthings, mend the hose,
Sweep out daily, close britches,
Sew a dress with tiny stitches,
Nurse a sick one, make the beds,
Kiss hurt places, shampoo heads,
Wash the blood off, hunt the mittens,
Wipe up after pups and kittens,
Tuck in covers, hear each prayer,
Brag a little, ease a care,
Take your pick. I get no pay,
But that's what I do every day".
He listened very carefully,
That's why I'm so annoyed,
Because that man just scribbled down
'Housewife. Unemployed.'


www.eposvriende.com

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Smullekker Pampoentert

Outydse soetkoekies

Souskluitjies