Song for a Fifth Child, also known as Babies Don't Keep, is a famous poem written by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton. It was first published in the Ladies' Home Journal in 1958. The text of the poem begins with "Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth" and concludes with "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep." The poem highlights a mother who chooses to ignore endless household tasks - like doing dishes, cleaning, and paying bills - to spend precious time rocking and playing with her child. It speaks to the fleeting childhood of children and the core of its message is that messy houses can wait, but children can not. They grow up fast ("babies don't keep").
Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
A Composition by Nan
Letters From a Hill Farm
Obituaries
Ruth Hamilton
Poet, actor, journalist, sparkling wit
July 3, 2018
Song for a Fifth Child was only one part of the life journey of Ruth Hulburt Hamilton.
Ruth was the mother of four children aged 11,9,7 and 5 when her fifth child, Jane, was born. “The children were all older when Jane was born and they would rush home to see her and hold her. Since there were five years between my next youngest and Jane, I had a bit more quiet time with her.” Ruth recalls.
Ruth’s daughter, Jeremy, remembers well how her mother rocked her and sang with them as children. Some of their favorite songs were The Lake Isle of Innisfree and Dark Brown is the River.
Ruth was born in Kirksville, Missouri in 1921 and she lived most of her life in Oak Park, Illinois. She married when she was 23 and became a mother for the first time at 25. Her poem, Song for a Fifth Child, was published in Ladies Home Journal in 1958 and has found a treasured place in the hearts of mothers for generations.
It honors the everyday efforts of motherhood. It honors the sacred in the mundane and the tensions that pull at us all as mothers. Bills, errands and housework will always be there and yet we must rock while we can.
 |
| Poet Ruth Hulburt Hamilton |
Ruth Hamilton
Poet, actor, journalist, sparkling wit
July 3, 2018
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton died in Evanston on June 26, 2018. Born in Kirksville, Missouri in 1921, she lived most of her life as a devoted Oak Parker. When she graduated from Oak Park and River Forest High, she decided to study acting. In her year at the Goodman School of Drama she was cast as a thorn bush in Sleeping Beauty. The director criticized her in rehearsal, saying she was not brambling properly. She then attended Pomona College and later graduated with a degree in English Literature from Rosary College (now Dominican University) in River Forest.
In 1943 she married Allen Beye Hamilton. During her long and happy marriage, she wrote poems, several of which were published in the Ladies Home Journal. Her poem, “Song for a Fifth Child,” has been cherished through the decades by generations of mothers.
In addition to raising five children, she had many vocations, acting in community-theater productions, working at Oak Park High, and writing profiles of actors that appeared in the Chicago Daily News and many others newspapers. Her pieces had her signature sparkle, wit, and generosity. She wrote such a charming letter to Lynne Fontanne that the actress, who with her husband Alfred Lunt had long since stopped giving interviews, granted her an audience.
Ruth spent the last 10 years of her life at the Presbyterian Home in Evanston. Among her many gifts was her great capacity for happiness, a gift that touched everyone she met. She will be remembered particularly for her profound joy by her friends; relations; her children Duncan, Bruce, Jeremy, and Jane; her son-in-law Bob Willard; and her grandchildren Allen and Duncan Riddell, and Ben and Hannah Willard. Her daughter Sarah and her husband predeceased her.
---
A Composition by Madelyn Rose Craig
February 11, 2023
I came across this poem while laying on the floor of my kids’ bedroom, waiting for them to fall asleep. Honestly, it couldn’t have found me on a better day. The day before, I had lost my cool every time my kids’ lost theirs. It was a miserable, tear-filled day that I couldn’t wait to end. It was also my “chore day.” This usually lands on a Wednesday unless that Wednesday happens to be a shopping day, in which case chores happen on Thursday. But this week, they happened both days because, well…because we all lost it. It was a day. And I’d had a lot of those.
But then I lay on their floor as I waited for them to fall into a deep sleep. I waited so that I could go do something I wanted to do, have some “me” time to read and write. And then, amid doom-scrolling through Twitter, I found this simple poem.
I love this poem. It is reminiscent of some I have written but with a different voice. It is the voice of someone who has had to say more goodbyes to childhood than I have, someone who has rocked more sleepy babies and laid them down one last time. The words made me laugh, and they sobered me, as I hope they will you. On this same day, I watched a video of my father playing “cars” with my daughter. The video was very in-fashion with my daughter’s personality, and my father played so well with her. It, too, made me laugh and sobered me. Because I don’t have many (any?) memories like that with my grandparents. I hope my children will have many more, memories where we spent time to sing and play and be together.
So, as I finish writing this, I hear my children begin to wake. I will need to make pizza and watch a movie with them because that’s what every other Thursday is for. But between these schedules and chores and things I must do, I will pause to enjoy my time with them. I will cherish these snuggles, color with crayons when asked, and play pretend on the floor. Yes, I’ll get to my writing, those dishes will eventually get done, and maybe one day, I’ll record another video. But first, I’ll tell those pestering to-do’s to hush now so I can hear instead the voices of my babies.
Blessings to you and yours,
Madelyn Rose Craig
