Mother is a' pegging out, and I do not mean she's dying
she's pegging clothes out on the line... well, at least, she's trying;
the kids are running here and there, and getting under her feet
the wind is blowing strong again, but mother won't be beat.
One by one, and peg by peg she struggles with the job
the kids are in and out the house, as round and round they bob;
at last the clothes are all pegged out, the underwear is flapping
and all the neighbours either side, impressed, resort to clapping.
By John Brown October 2021
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant! A really enjoyable read! Five stars and to my favourites x