My neighbor is washing her windows,
And scrubbing and mopping her floors,
But my house is all topsy and turvey,
And dust is behind all the doors.
My neighbor, she keeps her house spotless,
And she goes all day on a trot:
But no one would know in a fortnight
If she swept today or not.
The task I am at is enticing -
My neighbor is worn to a rag -
I am making a quilt out of pieces
I saved in a pretty chintz bag.
And the quilt, I know my descendants
Will exhibit with credit to me -
"So lovely - my grandmother made it
Long ago in 1933."
But will her grandchildren remember
Her struggles with dirt and decay?
They will not - they will wish she had made them
The quilt I am making today.
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