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Edgar Guest - Mother`s Glasses
Work rating: Low

I`ve told about the times that Ma can`t find her pocketbook, 
And how we have to hustle round for it to help her look, 
But there`s another care we know that often comes our way, 
I guess it happens easily a dozen times a day. 
It starts when first the postman through the door a letter passes, 
And Ma says: "Goodness gracious me! Wherever are my glasses?" 

We hunt `em on the mantelpiece an` by the kitchen sink, 
Until Ma says: "Now, children, stop, an` give me time to think 
Just when it was I used `em last an` just exactly where. 
Yes, now I know -- the dining room. I`m sure yu`ll find `em there." 
We even look behind the clock, we busy boys n` lasses, 
Until somebody runs across Ma`s missing pair of lasses. 

We`ve found `em in the Bible, an` we`ve found `em in the flour, 
We`ve found `em in the sugar bowl, an` once we looked an hour 
Before we came across `em in the padding of her chair; 
An` many a time we`ve found `em in the topknot of her hair. 
It`s a search that ruins order an` the home completely wrecks, 
For there`s no place where you may not find poor Ma`s elusive specs. 

But we`re mighty glad, I tell you, that the duty`s ours to do, 
An` we hope to hunt those glasses till our time of life is through; 
It`s a little bit of service that is joyous in its thrill, 
It`s a task that calls us daily an` we hope it always will. 
Rich or poor, the saddest mortals of all the joyless masses 
Are the ones who have no mother dear to lose her reading glasses.
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