For Mothering!

A poem by Fay Inchfawn

Up to the Hall, my lady there'll wear her satin gown,
For little Miss and Master'll be coming down from town.
Oh ay, the childern's coming! The CHILDERN did I say?
Of course, they're man and woman grown, this many and many a day.
But still, my lady's mouth do smile, and squire looks fit to sing,
As Master John and Miss Elaine is coming Mothering.

Then down to Farmer Westacott's, there's doings fine and grand,
Because young Jake is coming home from sea, you understand.
Put into port but yesternight, and when he steps ashore,
'Tis coming home the laddie is, to Somer- set once more.
And so her's baking spicy cakes, and stirring raisins in,
To welcome of her only chick, who's coming Mothering.

And what of we? And ain't we got no childern for to come?
Well, yes! There's Sam and Henery, and they'll be coming home.
And Ned is very nigh six foot, and Joe is six foot three!
But childern still to my good man, and childern still to me!
And all the vi'lets seem to know, and all the thrushes sing,
As how our Kate, and Bess and Flo is coming Mothering.

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