Washing day has come again,
Heigh ho! how tired am I!
Hold the baby, sister dear, Don't let her fret and cry.
Soon her dress will all be clean,
Heigh ho! how glad I'll be!
When it's aired she'll put it on,
And take a walk with me.
Scrub, rub, rub and scrub!
Soapsuds fly away!
Back and forth and up and down,
Heigh ho! for washing day.
This poem is in the public domain.
My inflexible Aunt Lena had a washing day, ironing day, cleaning day, noodle-making day, and hence never got to do any fun things with my mother and grandmother (her sister)! Posted 03/11/2013 07:39 PM
I remember when I lived on the farm and town,every Monday was washing day and Tuesday was for ironing. How things change? Permanent press and the laundary. Posted 03/11/2013 10:05 AM