A DAILY MESSAGE
I DON’T SCRUB THE LOVE OUT! Yc:u know the sort, I know you do, For everybody’s met ’em ; They rub and send), And scold and drub, And fuss, and l'ume, and fret ’em; They find no joy Within their homes, And yet, they never leave ’em; They polish knobs, And doors and floors. And scour, and dust, and grieve ’em ; When home the old man Comes from work; They creak, and croak, and peeve ’em ; “ This is the proper place for that. And that’s the place to leave ’em.” ” Don’t drop that ash Upon those mats, Remember I’ve to brush ’em. Don’t sit, don’t stand. Don’t this, don’t that,” Till everybody fears ’em. They scour the house. And sour the heart. They’re always tired and cranky; And “ Don’t ” is hung on every wall, From sitting-room to pantry. ******* Hut one day soon they’ll find—too late—liroom, mop, and scrubbing-brush shaped their fate. Love Inis been scrubbed from the home they knew, And peace has been dusted out of view, And Joy has been tidied out ol the way. And Sweetness swept out ten times a day. —M. PRESTON STANLEY.
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Hokitika Guardian, 21 January 1929, Page 1
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190A DAILY MESSAGE Hokitika Guardian, 21 January 1929, Page 1
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