Oh Child Asleep Upon My Knee

When my bubba was very small, my mum sent me this poem she had heard years ago.  It brings tears to my eyes everytime I read it.  Screw the washing and the cleaning - my small excuse, you're growing too fast.

Oh Child Asleep Upon My Knee

Oh child asleep upon my knee
what will your memories be of me?
When you are grown and think of now,
will you stop and remember how
the floors were dusty as you played
and dishes seldom put away,
I rarely got to make those beds...
or all those books we read and read?
Will you remember on the chair
the pile of wrinkled nappies there
that seemed to stay forever, or,
the other things I had time for?
You might recall my face was plain,
hair unkempt and apron stained,
or how from school back home you'd tear
safe knowing I was always there.

Oh child asleep upon my knee
you've made my life such luxury.
If not for you I'd have to do
the cleaning and the ironing too,
I couldn't move at my own pace,
I'd have to join in the rat race.
From nine to five in stiffened clothes
 with clipped-up hair and powdered nose.
You fill my life with many reasons
for being lazy through the seasons.
But with each autumn as you grow
I think it's such a shame to know
my small excuse, you're growing fast
this peaceful life, it will not last.
But perhaps when I am old and grey
my grandchildren will come to stay,
and with housework neglected then
my house I know will shine again.