Rose Fyleman

1877_1957 / Nottingham


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,

O '

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.
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