When mother comes each morning
  She wears her oldest things,
She doesn't make a rustle,
  She hasn't any rings;
She says, "Good-morning, chickies,
  It's such a lovely day,
Let's go into the garden
  And have a game of play."

When mother comes at tea-time
  Her dress goes shoo-shoo-shoo,
She always has a little bag,
  Sometimes a sunshade too;
She says, "I am so hoping
  There's something left for me;
Please hurry up, dear Nanna,
  I'm dying for my tea."

When mother comes at bed-time
  Her evening dress she wears,
She tells us each a story
  When we have said our prayers;
And if there is a party
  She looks so shiny bright
It's like a lovely fairy
  Dropped in to say good night.


This poem is in the public domain.