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Robert W Service - Mammy
Work rating: Low

I often wonder how
     Life clicks because
They don`t make women now
     Like Mammy was.
When broods of two or three
     Content most men,
How wonderful was she
     With children ten!

Though sixty years have gone,
     As I look back,
I see her rise at dawn,
     Our boots to black;
Pull us from drowsy bed,
     Wet sponge to pass,
And speed us porridge fed
     To morning class.

Our duds to make and mend,
     Far into night,
O`er needle she would spend
     By bleary light.
Yet as her head drooped low,
     With withered hair,
It seemed the candle glow
     Made halo there.

And so with silvered pow
     I sigh because
They don`t make women now
     Like Mammy was.
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