12th April, 2015
By: Jefferson . J. E. Wallace, Retired Class Teacher, Deputy Head Teacher, T.V/Radio Broadcaster, Community Education, National AIDS Coordinator, National Disabled Chairman, National Drug Advisory Council Chairman, CARICOM Drug Education Advisor, Health Educator and Director of Youth and Community Affairs
Outside the house, right in the yard,
Was my momma, washing hard.
All them clothes that dirty bad,
Rubbing and scrubbing, washing hard.
Sun was blazing, not a tree,
Was providing shade for my young mummy.
She was doing it for me,
And washing for me and her whole family.
Many a mother then, was just like mine,
Washing in blazing sun many a time.
Washing them clothes in the tub she behind.
Washing and singing without a clothes line.
She would hang out the clothes on a tree or a wall,
And wait on the sun to strike as a fire ball.
To dry them clothes before night falls.
Washing for big and washing for small.
I was proud of my mummy's washing skills,
Washing fire bright, them clothes with strong will.
Now and again she would rest and stand still,
Over her wooden tub by the hill.
Thank you momma for all that you ever do,
Not a thing I can do can repay one like you.
By: Jefferson . J. E. Wallace, Retired Class Teacher, Deputy Head Teacher, T.V/Radio Broadcaster, Community Education, National AIDS Coordinator, National Disabled Chairman, National Drug Advisory Council Chairman, CARICOM Drug Education Advisor, Health Educator and Director of Youth and Community Affairs
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| Mr. Jefferson J. E. Wallace, Telephone Contact For Bookings: 1-869-665-5349 |
Washing Woman - Washing Mother
Outside the house, right in the yard,
Was my momma, washing hard.
All them clothes that dirty bad,
Rubbing and scrubbing, washing hard.
Sun was blazing, not a tree,
Was providing shade for my young mummy.
She was doing it for me,
And washing for me and her whole family.
Many a mother then, was just like mine,
Washing in blazing sun many a time.
Washing them clothes in the tub she behind.
Washing and singing without a clothes line.
She would hang out the clothes on a tree or a wall,
And wait on the sun to strike as a fire ball.
To dry them clothes before night falls.
Washing for big and washing for small.
I was proud of my mummy's washing skills,
Washing fire bright, them clothes with strong will.
Now and again she would rest and stand still,
Over her wooden tub by the hill.
Thank you momma for all that you ever do,
Not a thing I can do can repay one like you.
By: J. J. E. Wallace
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