Mama’s Mama, on a winter’s day,
Milked the cows and fed them hay;
Slopped the hogs, saddled the mule,
And got her children off to school…
Did a washing, scrubbed the floors,
Washed the windows and did the chores.

Cooked a dish of home-dried fruit,
Pressed her husband’s Sunday suit,
Swept the parlor and made the bed,
Baked a dozen loaves of bread,
Split some firewood, lugged it in…
Enough to fill the kitchen bin.

Cleaned the lamps and put in oil,
Stewed some apples she thought might spoil;
Churned the butter, baked a cake,
Looked out and said, “For mercy’s sake!
The calves have got out of their pen!”
…Went out and put them in again.

Gathered the eggs, and locked the stable;
Returned to the house and set the table,
Cooked a supper that was delicious,
Afterward — washed all the dishes.
Fed the cat, sprinkled the clothes,
Mended a basket full of hose,
Then opened the organ and began to play,
“When you come to the end of the perfect day.”

Author Unknown