The Little Mothers of the poor
They lead a jolly life, I'm sure;
For without being gray and old,
They've all a mother's right to scold.
As eagerly each day they meet
To pass the gossip of the street,
Her baby-cart, each states with pride,
Is finest on the whole East side.
And each, her small charge will declare
The handsomest baby anywhere.
Oh, Grown-up Mothers, learn to praise
Your children and their pretty ways.
OTHER LITTLE MOTHERS
The Little Mothers of the rich
Are really works of art,
They are dressed up to such a pitch
In frocks so fine and smart.
They do not have to take the charge
Of baby boys or girls;
No, they have dolls exceeding large
With silky, flaxen curls.
Ah, Mothers in Society,
Accept this reasoning sound;
Dolls far less troublesome would be
Than children bothering round.
